Heartstone
by Sweet September Storm
Summary: The arrival of the Riders sent the whole of Merybourne Manor into a flurry of excitement. Rumors of wealth and a most fortunate bachelorhood swept through the neighborhood, borne on the wings of Brysney wyverns, Ruthven beorworms and a single magnificent Daired dragon. A fantastic new world for the classic romance.
1. Chapter 1

|**Chapter** **1**|

* * *

Oh gods, it was another one of _them._

The Riders Lord Merybourne had hired for the local gryphon problem had only been here for a day and I was already sick of the sight of them. All trim and cocky and positively _reeking_ of money. That's no exaggeration; you can actually taste the metallic tang in the air when they pass. Anjey says that's just the dragonscent on them, but I still think it's the coins in their fat purses.

For a moment I considered ducking behind the nearest pillar. My errand for my father could stand a minor delay and I had no wish to interact with this Rider. He was a dark-haired fellow, clean-shaven, tallish and scowling something fierce, as though thoroughly displeased with Merybourne Manor and everything in it. Granted, most visitors to the Manor wear some variation of that expression at least once during their stay, though it is usually brief and reserved for the moment they pass the latrines.

On the face of a Rider this look took on new significance. I could tell this man was one of them right away. Apart from the metallic smell and the swagger, his kind have a tendency to wear their gear everywhere. And I mean _everywhere,_ no matter how uncomfortable or ill fitting it may be for the occasion. I've heard that the Riders who live at Edonarle even attend royal balls in leather breeches and iron-shod boots, which the king and queen must scrupulously ignore. It has been said that the king's blind eye to this impropriety is all part and parcel with the Rider's payment. If that's so, then I say his blind eye must be comparatively worth very little. Even without compensation for their sorry wardrobes, a Rider working for the king is rumored to make upwards of five thousand gold drailings a year.

Lost in contemplating the good fortune five thousand a year would be, I forfeited my chance to slip out of the hall unnoticed. No matter. Even next to a Rider I had the right to hold my head high. A clerk's daughter is not considered nobleborn, but I'm nobody's washerwoman. I prepared to pass the Rider with a respectful nod.

On meeting his gaze, something gave me pause. This man was not an ordinary Rider. It took a sharp eye to pick out the details, but I have very sharp eyes. Riding gear over a green silk tunic…silver tooled into the leather chest piece…single gold stud through the lobe of his left ear…knee-high boots sheathed in beorworm scales…a short sword slung in easy reach over his shoulder, its hilt set with what looked to be the heartstone of a lamia… _Of course. _Lamias were dangerous creatures. One of their heartstones would be a worthy pommel gem for the sword of a Daired.

According to the neighborhood gossip, Lord Merybourne had only been able to afford one Daired. The rest of the troop he had called in were first-rate Riders, to be sure, but nobody with two bits worth of brain would argue that Family Daired was in a class of its own. Descended in a direct line from Edan Daired the Fireborn, only they can hold the loyalty of a dragon. Other Riders of lesser heritage can tame beorworms. Some of the more talented families can bond with wyverns, but the Daireds alone are dragonmasters.

Which means, quite naturally, that they are the wealthiest family in all of Arle.

I wondered if my mother was aware of this Daired's presence in the neighborhood. She must know. If not, it was an unaccountable failing on her part and quite unprecedented. She probably had his given name, his age, his rank in the House Pendragan and most importantly, his marital status already chronicled in her mental _Journal of Daughterly Disappointments and Their Practical Solutions_. For all I know, she really has such a book. With my sisters and I turning out so very unmarried, it wouldn't surprise me.

"A moment there, girl."

That did surprise me. I hadn't expected the Daired to speak. _Girl?_ Did he think me a servant? "Good morning, sir," I said, dropping into the curtsy I used for strangers of uncertain rank, unsavory barristers and the man at the market who sells cut-rate mutton. "Is something the matter?" I asked.

"I have instructions to meet Lord Merybourne in the Summer Wing. Please take me there at once," he said, pointedly avoiding eye contact.

He _did_ think me a servant. Even for a Daired, that was unforgivably rude. True, my dress was plain and my plaited hair was unadorned, but that's Manor fashion. We don't like to flaunt our wealth, meager as it may be. This Daired must have seen enough of the Manor to realize this. Rider or not, I was well within my rights to feel insulted at his address. Which I did. I sought his gaze and held it, something even the bravest servant would never do. "Sir, I can summon a maid to take you to his lordship. Unfortunately, I'm occupied at the moment. Sir Robart requires my help with the weekly figures." The Rider didn't need to know that, but I enjoyed telling him anyway. Lord Merybourne's clerk would never ask a maid for help with the Manor accounts.

"Sir Robart?"

"Indeed. I pray you will forgive me." I curtsied again. "One mustn't keep one's father waiting. I'll send a maid to show you the way."

The startled look in his eye was quite satisfying. If this Daired didn't understand the customs of Manor fashion, at least he recognized the importance of his lordship's clerk. My father had probably written the letter requesting the Rider's services for Lord Merybourne. He had certainly been the one to hand him his bag of gold the day before. The Daired bowed stiffly, realizing his error. "I mistook you, madam. My apologies."

"Think nothing of it. Shall I call a maid?"

"No, please; I will manage. I'll not detain you further." He backed away with one final bow. "Good morning, madam."

"Good morning, sir."

I watched him for a moment before he passed out of sight behind a pillar, his measured stride perhaps a bit more hurried than usual. The idea of calling out to him crossed my mind, but I dismissed it. He would find out soon enough the Summer Wing was at the opposite end of the Greathall. In the meantime, my father was waiting. The Rider Daired was no more concern of mine.


	2. Chapter 2

|**Chapter 2**|

* * *

To my disappointment, I was not the first to my father's study. My mother's voice had a particularly piercing quality to it that carried even through the thick oak door. My younger sister Mari has hypothesized that there might be some banshee blood on that side of the family, and I'm not entirely inclined to disagree with her.

"I know you delight in teasing me, my dear, but you're being _absurd_."

Much fainter, but still clear enough to detect the sarcasm, came my father's voice. "Am I? Then I must continue, beloved, for to be considered so by you is a feat indeed, and worth prolonging a little while longer."

Knowing my mother, I could guess the subject of their dispute. She had seen the Riders, and one of them had had the misfortune to be handsome in her eyes as well as wealthy. From that moment henceforth, mamma had considered him the rightful husband of one of her daughters, and was no doubt planning the wedding already. Perhaps the Rider in question was even the Daired; heaven knows his fortune would be suitable for my mother.

Understandably, my father had no desire to expose a Rider to his wife's matchmaking antics. He must have told her so in no indefinite terms. I imagined the consequences if he had not: my mother let loose upon the Riders. The picture was grim. If she failed in her designs, our family would never live down the embarrassment. Worse, if she succeeded, no Rider would ever come to Merybourne again, lest they tumble themselves into the same fate. It would be a terrible lot for one of their high rank. Riders of any caliber do not marry country wenches.

"But surely you must understand what an _opportunity_ this is, Sir Robart!"

"I do indeed. It is a chance for his lordship to rid the county of a years' long gryphon infestation."

"Don't be so tiresome, my love. I meant for our daughters!"

"How so? Were they planning to slay some of the beasts themselves?"

"Sir Robart!"

"Well then, they shall have some excellent teachers. I shall give my hearty consent to whichever of our girls wishes to apprentice herself."

Envisioning mother's inevitable response to this, I thought it a prudent time to make my presence known. I had only to knock once. There was relief in father's voice as he called for me to enter. True to form, mother was red as a tomato and breathing heavily, her arms crossed in petulant gesture as she paced the space in front of father's desk. I ignored her, fishing a slip of parchment from my cuff and holding it out to him. "These are the figures you wanted, father. Cook says we'll need a half-dozen extra head of cattle next fortnight."

Mother stopped pacing. "What're those for, Sir Robart?" she asked sharply. "Martenmas isn't for another two months."

Father stood, took the offered parchment and fell back into his chair. When his pleading look failed to discourage his wife, he gave up and motioned for us both to sit. He spoke to me first.

"Aliza my dear, I must trust this to your discretion for the next few hours. Lord Merybourne plans to announce it tonight, but in the meantime I know he'd prefer it not spread to _every_ corner of the Manor."

"Of course, father."

He then turned to mother with a somewhat arch look, though it was not entirely devoid of affection. "To you, beloved, I make no assumption of discretion."

"Sir Robart!" she protested.

"Hear me out, hear me out. I make no such assumption only because I am willing to trade you a worthy incentive to keep it to yourself for an afternoon. It will be in our daughters' best interests for you to hold your peace."

Mother returned his look with an equally imperious one of her own, but she did not argue. "Well then. Tell us, if you would be so kind. Why so much beef?"

Father settled himself more comfortably in his chair. "As I understand it, last month at Edonarle a certain young Rider by the name of Brysney expressed a wish to his lordship to take a more permanent residence in some less populated area of the country. Naturally, Lord Merybourne was only too happy to invite him and his sisters to the Manor to put an end to our gryphon problem—hoping, I'm sure, to impress him with our country charm in the meantime. As I was informed just this morning, it seems that his scheme worked. Our lovely little Manor has proven to be exactly the sort of place Brysney was looking to settle."

"Truly?" mother exclaimed. The imperious expression was gone, replaced by a look of delight.

"Truly. His lordship took Brysney and his wyvern around the Manor lands yesterday afternoon. By his report they were so impressed they wished to move into the lodge at North Fields at once. The extra head of cattle are a gift of welcome for his and the other Brysney wyverns."

Mother turned to me and reached for my hand, smiling wide enough to show all her teeth. "Think of that, Aliza dear—a Rider worth five thousand a year, and living at North Fields no less! It is so _very_ close. How lucky for you and your sisters!"

"Yes, quite." I gently disentangled myself from her ecstatic grasp. "Father, what of the Daired?"

"A _Daired _is to live at North Fields too?" mother interjected, glancing from me to my father and back again.

Father caught her gaze and scoffed. "Certainly not, Madam Bentaine! Daired is simply here to help rid us of the gryphons. From what his lordship told me, he'll be gone as soon as Brysney and his household are settled in North Fields."

"Will that be long, do you think?" I asked.

"It's impossible to tell. They'll have to deal with the infestation first, and heaven knows how many days that will take. If the situation is quite as bad as Lord Merybourne seems to think it is, then I wouldn't expect to see the underside of that Daired's dragon's wings for at least a fortnight. I do hope you may take comfort in that thought, my dear," he said as mother stood.

"I do, Sir Robart. But it means every moment is precious."

"Indeed, how so?"

"You said no one else knows of this Brysney's plans?"

"No one but myself, the chamberlain and his lordship. He plans to inform the rest of the Manor at banquet tonight."

"Excellent. Then that gives me a few hours to ready Anjey without rousing Madam Curlew's suspicions."

"Pardon?" Father looked surprised, and I was scarcely less so. "What does Anjey have to do with this?"

"Don't be silly, my dear," she chided him as she prepared to leave. "You've made use of one daughter's wits; now it's time for me to make use of another's beauty. With a little encouragement and just the right dress, your Sir Brysney won't stand a chance against her." Mother paused just long enough to curtsey on the threshold before hurrying off to enact her plan. "We'll see them wed within a twelvemonth!" she called out as the door swung shut behind her.

Father waited until he was sure she was well away before he spoke again, his bearded chin trembling with what I hoped was suppressed laughter. It might just have easily been embarrassment. "Should we tell her what sort of miracle it would take to induce a Rider to marry a clerk's daughter?" he asked. For a moment I considered it, then shook my head. He sighed. "You're right. Best not."


	3. Chapter 3

|**Chapter ****3**|

* * *

"Do you think he'll stay long, father?"

Lost for a moment in his reflections on what I could only guess was his wife's folly, he started at my question. "Eh? What's that?"

"Master Brysney. Will he stay at North Fields long?"

"Hard to say, my girl."

"From what his lordship said do you think it likely?"

Father shrugged. "Brysney is young and rich with a wyvern to his name. Common sense says that he should continue gallivanting around the country with the other Riders for hire, slaying monsters and having adventures until at least middle age. But who knows? Perhaps he hasn't got that kind of sense."

I smiled at the thought. That would be a rare spectacle indeed—a young, wealthy Rider sworn to stay in one place for months at a time! Once word spread, the lodge at North Fields would become a pilgrimage destination for all the single daughters of Arle. How my mother would fret at the sight!

"You said Brysney's sisters plan to live with him?" I asked.

"Yes, for a while at least. His older sister is married to a Ruthven, so the two of them will probably not stay longer than is necessary to see their brother settled. His younger sister Lady Charis might remain at North Fields."

"A Rider as well?" I assumed she was; I knew Lord Merybourne had hired five Riders including the Daired, though I had not yet seen them all.

"Yes, and quite the adept from what I've heard."

"What have you heard?"

"Among other things, that she and her brother were responsible for the death of the lesser lindworm of Harborough Hatch just three months ago."

"Ah." That was a feat indeed. I shuddered at the thought of those terrible beasts. It was said that a lindworm poisoned the ground it slithered over, leaving vast ditches of slime-slicked earth where there had once been grass and gardens and homes and lives. "The Hatch lord must have been grateful."

Father smiled. "Indeed he was. To the tune of several thousands in silver, as the rumor tells it."

"How fortunate for them." I pulled my chair closer to the desk and rested my elbows on its edge. "Do you know if Master Brysney and his sister often work together?"

"I haven't the faintest idea, my dear. Why do you ask?"

"It only seems rather singular that a Rider with a death-record like that would wish to settle with her brother in the country. Even if Master Brysney wants to live a less adventurous life, Arle lies open to her."

Father dropped his gaze and shifted in his seat. "Well—yes, that's the thing. I'm afraid that Lady Charis' wyvern was bitten during their confrontation with the lindworm. He died soon afterwards."

"Oh. That is most unfortunate." My next thought was far less sympathetic than it should have been. Nevertheless, I was accustomed to speak my mind in my father's presence, as it was one of the few places I could. "But if she has no mount, then why is his lordship paying for her services as a Rider?" The Manor was struggling as it was to pay for the five of them together, and Lord Merybourne was not one for unnecessary expenses.

"Aliza, you really do astound me sometimes!" father said, his sorrowful expression softening. "If the laws were different I would leave the management of the Manor in your hands. His lordship could find no one better suited, man or woman. Eminently practical you are, my dear. Lady Charis may not have a wyvern anymore, but she remains an accomplished swordswoman. His lordship thinks her skills will prove equally valuable on the ground as her brother's are in the air."

"But it's certainly more dangerous for her. Is that not rather…_ungallant_ of his lordship to allow it?"

He steepled his fingers in what I have learned to be his most thoughtful gesture. "Very noble of you to consider that. But we must not expect a Rider to abide by our customs. Lady Charis is her own master. She may do as she sees fit, even if it means riding into battle with a horde of gryphon on a mount no more distinguished than his lordship's gray."

That mental image was both thrilling and terrifying, and wyvern or no wyvern, I thought Charis Brysney a brave woman.

"Now, are you all out of questions for me?" father asked, leaning forward with a tired twinkle in his eyes. "Because I have an important task to give you before banquet tonight."

I smiled. "For now, yes. I can't promise that more won't follow later."

"To be sure, by tomorrow you might very well know more about the persons and habits of our visiting Riders than I do. When that happens, I will gladly call on you to explain to me the motivations of Master and Lady Brysney. In the meantime, however, I'd like you to keep an eye on Anjey."

I understood his meaning at once. "Because of mamma?"

"Aye."

I stood. "You don't think mamma will do anything…reckless_…_to secure Master Brysney's attentions, do you?" The slight tremor of my voice gave away my inner trepidation. Knowing her determination to see her daughters well wed, I had no assurance that mother would not do something embarrassing to force Anjey and Brysney together, something of the sort that I would blush to remember even in a twelvemonth.

Father started to shake his head before he thought better of it and shrugged instead. "I truly don't know. When it comes to matters of the heart, your mother is the most devilishly clever woman I have ever met. I would not put anything past her." A shadow of regret flickered across his face as he said this, no doubt remembering their younger years together. I decided not to press him any further on the subject. The shadow was gone in a moment, and he continued with a crinkly-eyed smile. "In remedy I'll send the most sensible woman I know to counterbalance the deviousness of the silliest. You and your sister together should be able to hold her in some sort of check."

I made for the door. "Your faith in my power to reason with mamma is encouraging, papa, if a bit overestimated. I'll do my best."

"I know you will. Now off with you, my dear. I will see you tonight."


	4. Chapter 4

|**Chapter ****4**|

* * *

As my father tells it, the family Bentaine has been keeping accounts for the lord of Merybourne Manor since the Manor was no more than a few fields and a single farmhouse tucked into the hills of the Hart's Run. The Manor has since grown considerably, and the Manor House is now a small castle unto itself, but we Bentaines remain.

Consequently, though the living quarters have been continually built and rebuilt further away from Greathall to accommodate the Manor's growing numbers, the clerk's study has always been at the south end of the Winter Wing, just adjacent to his lordship's personal library. It's handy for my father, but not so much for me. The walk back to my family's apartments takes a good ten minutes, and twice that if the Greathall is occupied.

To my relief, today it wasn't. On most banquet days his lordship would have a small army of pages setting out the long trestles, washing down the stone floors, hanging pine swags to sweeten the air and lighting fires in the three enormous fireplaces. Experience has taught me to avoid this shortcut in those circumstances. I once tried to weave my way through the Hall while banquet preparations were underway, and my bruised elbows and sore toes prevented me from ever desiring to do so again. The run-in also taught me to stay on the housekeeper's good side if I valued my life.

But fearsome Hill was nowhere to be seen this afternoon, for though it was a banquet night, we were not to be eating inside. Many years ago, his lordship's great-great grandsire had hollowed out a nearby hillside to serve as an outdoor banqueting hall. From what I understand, that was the last time Merybourne Manor played host to a Daired and his dragon. Not being built to the House Pendragan scale of course, there was no way a full-grown dragon, or even a half-grown one, could possibly fit inside the Greathall. So tonight we were banqueting outside, under the stars and the pines and the constant threat of rain.

I sent up a whispered prayer to the weather gods as I dashed across the empty Hall, climbed a back staircase and wound my way through the tangle of passages leading to our chambers. It was late summer still, but if the hills of Hart's Run had any right to fame, it would be for their unpredictable skies. We have a saying on the Manor: _if you find the weather disagreeable, take a nap. It's bound to have changed by the time you wake up._

Hopefully the gods would heed my prayer and hold back the rain, or the chill, or the fog, or whatever they might have planned to send down on us tonight as penance for a warm and sunny afternoon. Until they were firmly settled at the lodge in North Fields, Master Brysney and his sisters had no need to see the muddy side of Merybourne Manor. It was a particularly unattractive sight.

As for the Daired, he was welcome to think of our home however he wished. His opinion mattered very little to me. I _did_ hope he would recognize the sacrifices we Manor folk were making to pay for his services, but that hope was for my friends' and neighbors' sake, not for mine. It would be the height of incivility to treat our hard-earned gold as a common thing, even though to him it might be. Of course, given what I had already seen of the Daired's manners, I wouldn't put it past him to be uncivil tonight.

With a satisfied little grimace I pushed open the door to our family's front parlor. Rudeness to a clerk's daughter might be explained away by ignorance, but Daired would find another thing coming if he tried that in front of his lordship.

The pleasure of that mental image dissolved as soon as the door swung shut behind me. My mother accosted me at once. Her face was flushed, her hair was quite blowsy and her arms were full of ruffled silk. A few satin ribbons trailed after her. "Aliza dear! How fortunate! We're all in such a state."

"What's wrong, mamma?"

She shook her head, setting a few more strands of hair free from their pinnings. "That whey-brain of a housemaid went off with the servants to set up the Hall-under-Hill, leaving all the ironing undone! I've managed to press Anjey's things but I haven't time to fix her hair _and_ finish the rest of our gowns."

"Why not ask Leyda and Rina to iron their own things?" I suggested. It was a novel idea. My two youngest sisters haven't a responsible hair on their heads, let alone a responsible thought within those heads. "I'd bet they're skulking around the Summer Wing hoping to catch a glimpse of the Riders."

"Oh, the little minxes!" she said with a proud sigh, and I was reminded again from whom Leyda and Rina had inherited their silliness. "You're right, I suppose."

"Shall I fetch them?"

"No, no, I will. You help your sister arrange her hair."

"Of course, mamma."

"Thank you, my dear!" she said. "And do hurry. We've no time to waste!"

I frowned. It was barely midafternoon. "Mamma, banquet doesn't start until sundown."

"Yes, and Anjey must look perfect! Perfection alone will capture a Rider's heart," she said as solemnly as if she was quoting a passage from the Book of Honored Proverbs. "And I will _not_ let Master Brysney leave Merybourne Manor unensnared. We must hurry!" She nodded once in approval of her own words, then turned and hurried towards the door, still clutching the ironing to her chest.

"Is she gone?" My sister's voice came muffled from behind the door to her room.

"Yes, she's gone."

"Oh thank heavens." Anjey pulled the door open and beckoned for me to enter. "What took you so long? I had to turn down five dresses before she lost patience with me!"

"Isn't that a new record?"

Anjey sat in front of her mirror and made a face at my reflection. "I swear, she's growing more stubborn by the week. She'll have us looking as wild as Leyda by Martenmas if we let her have her way."

I took a comb from her vanity and began to brush out her long hair. "Don't be silly, Anjey. Mamma would give anything in the world to have Leyda look a little more like _you_."

It was true. Once, a very long time ago, our family paid a visit to our relations in Edonarle for the king's coronation. Between feasts, my mother's brother insisted that we accompany him to the shrine of Saint Ellia of the Shattered Bow. Uncle said it was a wonder not to be missed. He was quite right. The shrine was built in the south of the city, where the sun shone longer on the wide streets and single-story houses of the rich. Surrounded by an orchard garden of apple trees, the statue of Saint Ellia stood on a circular pavement of mother-of-pearl. The mosaic told the story of Ellia's brave stand against the sea serpent, and how with her last arrow she brought down the beast at the cost of her bow and her life.

I remembered standing there on that pavement looking into Saint Ellia's face long after the rest of my family had wandered into the surrounding gardens, of which my uncle was the caretaker. It was not only the story of Saint Ellia that had captured me, but also the resemblance. Calm and fearless, the face that overlooked the city and the sea was the face of my sister. Like Ellia in her time, Anjey is without a doubt the most beautiful woman in all of Arle.

Anjey and I share the same dark eyes and ruddy complexion, but beyond that the similarities grow few and far between. Neither of us is tall, but Anjey has a grace to her presence, a quiet regality that I have never been able to imitate. I am squarer and more angular, lithe but not quite as delicate. Her hair is thick and a little wild, falling down her back in ringlets the color of velvety midnight. Mine is just as long, but lighter and less wanton. Father remarked on the irony once when we were younger: Anjey's hair contained all the recklessness that her personality lacked, while mine was tame in a way that my spirit could never quite manage.

It was a fitting analogy at the time, but I think in the years since my sister and I have learned from each other. I am no longer quite so wild, and she is no longer quite so docile. The same steady flame that I once saw burning in the gaze of Saint Ellia now burns in Anjey's doe eyes—watchful, majestic and protective, especially of me.

At the moment, however, those eyes were turned towards her wardrobe, and the flame burned scornful.

"I wasn't wrong, was I?" she asked.

I glanced up to see to what she was referring. A few dresses lay over the wardrobe's open doors. By their unfamiliar cut and the faint scent of lavender than hung around them, I guessed that mamma had dug them out of her own dressers in the hopes that Anjey would wear one. I did not have to see them on my sister to know that the necklines were a few scissor snips away from making her blush.

"No, you weren't."

"Should I really shock mamma and wear old sacking instead?" she asked with a wicked grin.

"Oh, shush."

"You think I'm joking. I'm very seriously considering it."

I smiled. "You don't need one of mamma's gowns to show off your lovely figure, Anjey. But you needn't hide it either." My comb snagged on a snarl and she winced. "Sorry."

"It's fine. By the by, what are you wearing tonight?"

"You don't think mamma will foist those on me, do you?" I asked, nodding to the wardrobe as I set down the comb and began plaiting her hair.

"I don't think she'd dare. She knows you'll not give in."

"Ha! Good. Then I'll settle for something that can fit comfortably between sacking and silk."

"Your green gown, Aliza," Anjey suggested. "Wear that."

"I might." Perhaps it was the mention of _silk_ and _green_ in such close proximity to each other that brought it to mind, but all at once I found myself thinking of the Daired again. "Anjey, you'll never guess who I crossed in the Hall earlier."

"Who? The king?"

"No. Do be serious."

"Who, then?"

"Master Daired."

"Close enough."

I laughed.

"Mamma did say his lordship had hired one of them." Anjey took the end of the plait I handed her and held it away from her face. "So did you meet him?"

"Meet? Not exactly. I believe _mortified_ might be the more accurate term."

"What do you mean?"

I took the plait from her hand and twisted it into the knot I had made at the top of her head. "He insulted me."

"He did _what?"_

"He thought I was a maid. He called me 'girl' and asked me to take him to Lord Merybourne."

"Did he apologize?"

"Yes," I admitted. "After I told him I was Sir Robart's daughter."

"Then you're braver than I'd ever be. I'd fear to cross words with any Rider, let alone a Daired." She turned to me and caught my hand. "What if he'd taken offense, dearest? You've heard the stories. Dragons don't forgive affronts to their Riders."

"In that case I would be sure to keep a pitcher of water nearby at all times."

Anjey laughed. "And everyone would admire you for your courage. Posthumously, since you would still be a small pile of ash."

I drew myself up to my full height and pressed my free hand to my breast in what I hoped was a fitting dramatic gesture. "And all the troubadours of Arle would immortalize my stand against the haughty dragonmaster of Hart's Run. They would sing the Alizasong every Martenmas in my memory!"

"Perhaps." She released my hand and faced he mirror once more. "If you do plan to continue your residence among the living for a little while longer, I'd suggest you finish my hair. Mamma will spout something worse than dragonfire if you're not done by the time she returns."

Anjey was right. The thought of a furious Madam Bentaine rapidly brought me back to myself. "Very well. There." I pinned a pearl-colored ribbon in place stepped back to inspect my work. "Although to be fair, you needn't bother with any of this. You'd still be the fairest creature on the Manor even if you left your hair unbound."

A modest blush spread over her cheek. "I think your love blinds you, sister."

"Nonsense. It makes me see everything more clearly. If every man at banquet does not return home this evening more than half in love with you, then I will never fix your hair again, since it must needs be my fault."

"Then in the interest of preserving your reputation, I will make a valiant effort to make every man fall at least three-quarters in love with me," she said, rising from the mirror and motioning for me to take her place.

I sat with a wink. "If you plan on making anyone fall in love with you tonight, you might consider saving your smiles for Master Brysney. I hear he collects upwards of five thousand in gold a year."

Anjey raised an eyebrow. "Does he now? Five thousand?"

"At least. Mamma thinks him yours already."

She laughed brightly. "Well, in that case you may rest assured: Master Brysney is safe from me."


	5. Chapter 5

|**Chapter ****5**|

* * *

In the end I did as Anjey suggested and chose the green dress. She fixed my hair in a simple braided knot at the nape of my neck, unadorned save for a single bronze pin. Besides that, neither of us wore any jewelry. We did not always think of how it would annoy our mother as we dressed, but that did not make the look on her face any less rewarding. She entered the room just as Anjey was helping me into my corset. A single glance was all it took for mamma to assess the scene. Seeing my sister in a plain blue frock with a modest lace neckerchief and sleeves, her already red face grew redder and her blowsy hair seemed to stand up even straighter.

"Did you find Leyda and Rina?" I asked her as Anjey began tightening my laces. It took many years of practice not to gasp as she did.

"As a matter of fact I did. They're pressing their things now. Leyda would like your help arranging her hair when you're done, Aliza."

"I'd be glad to."

"What about Mari, mamma?" Anjey asked.

"She says she doesn't want to go to banquet tonight."

"Oh?" I held my breath as my sister tied the last knot, then cautiously exhaled. All was well; I could still breathe. "Will papa allow that?" I asked.

Mamma sniffed. "If Mari doesn't want to go then your father won't force her. He thinks these things a terrible waste of resources anyway." She laid the dress she had been holding on the bed, making a point as she did to give Anjey's current gown a deep frown. Both my sister and I ignored it. "Besides, Mari takes no pleasure in socializing with non-Manor folk. I'll not force her to make an appearance if she'd rather stay away."

I bit down hard on my lip to keep from saying what I wished in defense of my younger sister. It was a fact that mamma stubbornly refused to acknowledge: Mari disliked socializing because she had grown tired of the constant comparisons to the rest of her sisters, especially Anjey. Mari was a bookish girl, sweet, shy and even clever in her own pedantic sort of way, but cursed with weak eyes, dull hair and a sickly complexion. Compared to the likes of her eldest sister, poor Mari hadn't much to recommend her. The idea that she wished to avoid another opportunity for our mother to remind her of this fact was not a surprise.

"She'll be disappointed that she didn't get to see the Daired's dragon up close," I said, hoping the pity in my voice inspired my mother to some sort of compassion towards her plainest daughter.

Anjey understood my tone at once and took it up herself. "She'd have been looking forward to adding a drawing of him to her bestiaries," she added as she helped me pull the green dress over my head.

"It's a she, actually," mamma corrected. "The Daired's dragon. And yes, it is a shame." She made as if to leave, but on the threshold she paused and caught my eye. "Why not make a sketch for her, my dear?"

The suggestion came without any hint of sarcasm, and I smiled. Mari loved collecting drawings of all the various creatures of Arle, from the mighty draken to the lowliest garden hobgoblin. If I could get close enough to capture the details, a dragon sketch would be worth many banquets for her. Perhaps my mother was not beyond compassion after all.

"I'd love to," I said.

"Very good. Now hurry, both of you! If you're not going to take any more trouble readying yourself, Anjey my love, you might as well help Rina get ready. We _must_ be the first family there to greet the Riders!"

"Of course, mamma," Anjey said.

"Absolutely," I agreed. There was simply no point in mentioning that we had a good three hours until sundown.

Satisfied, mother hurried out.

"She means we need to be there before the Curlews, doesn't she?" I asked my sister as soon as the door swung shut.

Anjey chuckled. "I think it must. Is it because Madam Curlew has her heart set on Master Brysney for Lora?"

I took up the amber sash from one of the dresses mamma had laid out on the bed and wrapped it once around my waist, throwing the loose end over my shoulder for Anjey to tie off. "Ha! Lora would sooner marry a stableboy. As a rule, she thinks Riders are vastly overrated."

"Does she?"

"Certainly. I've listened to her strictures on the subject at least a dozen times now. She makes them very entertaining."

"Poor Madam Curlew."

I shrugged. "If worse comes to worst and Lora marries who she wishes, at least Madam Curlew will always have Amarie."

Anjey laughed heartily at that. Amarie Curlew was Lora's little sister, a timid, freckled, lisping girl scarcely eight years old. "I suppose she will. Now…" she motioned for me to spin. "You look lovely. How am I?"

I glanced her over. "Beautiful, as ever."

"Good," she said with a sigh. "Now, shall we go look after the little ones?"

I shared her frustration but not her sisterly goodwill. She had far more patience with Leyda and Rina than I did. Still, it could not be helped. We had promised. "Yes, do let's."

It was very well we did. Had we not been on hand to hurry them along, it was altogether likely that our family would never have made it to banquet at all. Mamma was wiser than us there, or at least she understood her youngest daughters far better than we did. I am of the latter opinion.

As soon as we entered Leyda's room, Anjey and I were greeted by a hysterical Rina, who was dressed only in her underclothes. Gowns lay crumpled and scattered everywhere, along with slippers, mismatched gloves, several undarned stockings and a few sashes that I was fairly certain had come from Anjey's wardrobe. I wondered what my sisters had shown mamma to convince her that they were ironing their clothes. Nothing in the room looked as if it had been pressed in days.

"Leyda says I shan't be the one to dance with a Rider tonight!" Rina wailed, clutching at my arm. "She says I'd step on their feet and embarrass everyone!"

Anjey and I exchanged a glance, which said everything that needed to be said. At once Anjey went in search of Leyda as I took Rina's shoulder and guided her gently back into the room. "Rina, dear, don't be silly. Leyda only said that because she's nervous. You can dance with whomever you like tonight. You won't shame anyone."

"But what if Leyda's right? Won't I step on their feet?" she asked, her lower lip trembling. "No one will want me if I do!"

"Of course you won't, dearest. You're the best dancer in the family." It was true; as empty-headed as she could be, Rina was nevertheless uncommonly graceful.

"Really?"

"Really. Now come on, let's get you ready."

At that moment Anjey emerged from Rina's room next door, dragging a sulky Leyda behind her. "And what exactly were you doing here, young lady?" she asked, pointing to the clothes strewn everywhere. "This is no way to treat your things."

Leyda pulled away from Anjey's grasp and sat down on the bed with arms folded. "I was only looking for a dress."

"And you couldn't find one _not_ hanging in the very back of your wardrobe?" Anjey asked. She caught sight of a white gown lying bunched in a corner. "Or my wardrobe, for that matter?"

Leyda's mood swung from sulky to frustrated and from frustrated to wheedling in a moment. "I'm so sorry, Anjey. I just wanted to look perfect like you! Please don't be angry with me."

Anjey sighed. "As long as you return my things I won't mention it to mamma."

"Thank you, I will! I promise!"

"In the meantime, you both had better make your decisions and get dressed," I said. "Mamma does not want to be late to this banquet."

"But I don't know what to wear!" Rina and Leyda cried at the same time.

I rolled my eyes. "Then Anjey and I will help you. Rina, chose three gowns and try them on while I fix Leyda's hair."

Neither found any cause to complain about this arrangement, so they did as I said. Anjey sat on the edge of Leyda's bed and either nodded or shook her head as Rina displayed her choices. Standing behind my youngest sister at the vanity, I brushed out Leyda's dark hair and pinned it, by her request, in a looping braid over her shoulder. My comments to Rina were somewhat curtailed by the fact that Leyda seemed unable to keep her head still for longer that ten seconds, and I spent a great deal more energy turning her back to face the mirror than I did in doing her hair. In the end, however, I managed. Rina settled on a gown of pale yellow, creamy against her dark skin and flattering to her gaunt figure, and the newly-coiffed Leyda took her place in front of the wardrobe.

This was our great mistake. For our youngest sister is nothing if not determined, and she was determined that afternoon to look, as she said, as perfect as Anjey. Leyda was pretty enough in her own brash, sly way, and she could be exceptionally devoted, but none of those attributes did her credit when she allowed herself to be ruled by her uncertain temper. I hardly ever knew if she was going to be sweet this minute and petulant the next, or fiery this minute and shy the next. Being myself a creature of regular habits and temperament, it was no wonder Leyda frustrated me so.

Her behavior now was nothing if not exasperating in the extreme. It took all but a quarter hour of the remaining three hours until sunset for Leyda to try on the dresses she liked—which ended up being all of them—and choosing one. Rina had long since grown bored, and once Anjey finished arranging her hair she went to join mamma in the parlor. I would have gladly followed her, save that in doing so I would have left Anjey alone with Leyda's indecision. That sort of cruelty is not in me, so I stayed.

At last, at long last, we three emerged from her room, tired and a little testy but triumphant. Leyda had decided on a gown of dark coppery red, the finest she owned. Our praise of it was enough for Leyda, who had no lack of self-confidence, and after several turns in front of the mirror she finally declared herself perfect. Anjey and I had never been more willing to agree with her.

To her credit, mother had the wit not to waste time in scolding Leyda when we joined her and Rina in the parlor. Instead she bustled us out of the door with the terrible threat that if we didn't hurry to the Hall-under-Hill, Master Brysney would already have his sights set on some one or other of the Manor girls, all hope would be lost for Anjey and when our father died we would be sent to live in a hut on the furthest farm of Hart's Run, desperate, destitute and eternally single.

Her forecast of doom was ridiculous, but none of us dared argue as we hurried through the quiet hallways of the Manor House. I couldn't help but wonder if Master Brysney did in fact have any desire to choose a wife from among the daughters of Merybourne. The question was moot in any case. In my mother's mind the truth was fixed, incontrovertible, universal. Being single and in possession of great wealth, Master Brysney _must_ wish to marry. And thus for all intents and purposes he was already Anjey's property, since she was the most beautiful girl in the county. By that logic it made sense that mamma would be quite put out to arrive at Hall-under-Hill and find Master Brysney already taken with another woman. Anjey caught my eye and shook her head in exasperation as mamma urged us on. Nevertheless we walked a little faster.


	6. Chapter 6

|**Chapter** **6**|

* * *

Father met us by the door to his study. He had added a clean handkerchief to his suit of customary black, but besides that he had not changed at all. With composure that revealed a great deal of practice, he took mamma's arm and led his family out of doors, listening to his wife's nervous speculations about the state of Master Brysney's fortune with perfect indifference, adding an interested _hmmm_ every so often out of habit.

Thankfully her fears could not be talked of aloud for long. We soon caught up with a number of other families making their way to the Hall-under-Hill. Mamma grew silent as father greeted the blacksmith and his wife.

"Good evening, Hamden. Madam Hamden."

"Evening, Sir Robart. Heading to banquet?"

"Yes indeed."

The blacksmith smiled broadly, showing a fine assortment of chipped teeth. He pointed to the sky. To our collective relief the weather had stayed fine, though clouds were gathering in the west around the setting sun. The effect was beautiful. It looked as if some elemental dragon had ignited the sky, sending pillars of brilliantly colored dragonfire searing across the horizon. It was also a relief to see no silhouettes of gryphons flying black against the sky in the immediate area. The presence of two wyverns, a beorworm and a dragon were understandable deterrents.

"A fitting evening to celebrate such guests, eh?" Master Hamden asked my father.

"Certainly," father answered, moving closer to him to continue their conversation in lower tones. Mamma sought Madam Hamden's side as well. The Hamden family had two sons and no daughters, so my mother had no reason to feel enmity towards them. She and young Madam Hamden soon fell to talking, though they did not talk long. The bowl-shaped valley of Hall-under-Hill was not far from the Manor House, no more than a leisurely ten-minute walk. The main gate was situated at the end of a rocky path that ran mostly uphill. As we were all lifetime residents of Merybourne Manor, the slight climb went unmentioned and unnoticed.

I could imagine the effect the Hall-under-Hill might have on a stranger to the Manor. It was unusual enough to be impressive. His lordship's great-great grandsire was richer than he had ever been, probably because the old lord did not have a horde of gryphons worrying his villagers, destroying crops and carrying off great quantities of sheep. But the old lord did have a problem with the local coven of valkyr.

As our Merybourne bard tells it, after living in the same forest for five hundred years, the valkyr of the coven were struck with a strange malady, a blindness of the sense that told them the difference between the ghostly woodwights they were supposed to shepherd and the living humans whom they should have left well alone. It was a rare illness to befall the valkyr, though not unheard of. People of the Manor would disappear for days at a time, only to reappear in a town many miles outside of Hart's Run, unharmed but disoriented and very upset.

The trouble was, no human in the county could speak enough Valkyrie to reason with the coven. It was dangerous for the untrained to try, for valkyr are exceedingly territorial and possessed of strict taboo which most ignorant humans would find themselves breaking by their very presence. So the old lord sent for a Daired and his dragon. Dragons speak every language and fear nothing, since by their very nature they command deference among all creatures, save only the fearsome sea serpent.

In the end the Daired and his dragon brokered a pact between the coven and the Manor, but the story gets rather boring after that point and our bard usually glosses it over. Suffice it to say that in the meantime the old lord soon discovered how ill suited his Manor House was to accommodate a dragon-sized guest. With the part of his wealth not set aside to pay the Rider's bond-price, the lord hired a great number of goblin stonesmiths from the surrounding area to hollow out a hill just south of the House. The result was a shallow, stone walled valley with a floor of level green turf. It was just large enough to hold a full-grown dragon, several immense banqueting trestles, a bonfire the size of the millpond and all the families of Merybourne Manor.

I have always found the Hall-under-Hill a pleasant place, with the nearby firs dropping their needles in a soft, silent carpet underfoot and the fresh scent of pines drifting in with the breezes from the higher hills. When we were younger my sisters and I often met here to play with the other Manor children. The series of crumbling stone arches that bordered the ring of the valley floor was a perfect backdrop for games of seek-the-ghoul. Indeed, we might still meet at the Hall if it weren't for the constant threat of gryphon attack.

"Oh mamma, _look_!" Leyda's timely exclamation interrupted my reverie, for at that moment our little party crested the top of the hill.

We were not the first family to arrive. Nor were we the second, nor even the fifth. By the dying light of the sun and the newly lit bonfire, I counted the cartwright, the cooper, the bricklayer, the chamberlain and the miller's families among those mingling by the laden banquet trestles. Lord and Lady Merybourne were there as well, and at their side stood five unmistakable figures. Each wore the telltale leather breeches and iron-shod boots that I now knew to be synonymous with the title _Rider_.

Even more telling were the four great beasts ranged just behind their Riders. My breath caught in my throat as the fire illuminated those majestic hulking forms, reflecting the glossy coat of Master Ruthven's beorworm and the liquid, intelligent eyes of two Brysney wyverns. But above them all, looking down from what seemed to he the height of a small cottage, was the beautiful and imperious scaled head of the Daired dragon herself.

"So that'd be them Riders, then?" Master Hamden said to my father in an undertone as we began our descent into the Hall proper.

"Indeed."

The blacksmith grunted, apparently unaffected by the sight of their impressive mounts. "They'd better be worth it. I turned over ten silver pieces and my best cart to his lordship to help pay for them."

His wife left my mother's side and took his arm. "Don't say such things, dearheart," she chided him. "You _know_ why we need them."

"Aye, aye, I know," he agreed. By his tone I took it that he was sufficiently remonstrated. It would not do for his lordship—or worse, for the miller—to catch us questioning the need for which we called in the Riders in the first place.

"Then keep your chin up and smile," Madam Hamden said as she caught the eye of the cooper's wife and waved. "Look, Madam Moore wants to see us. Have a pleasant evening, Madam Bentaine, Master Bentaine!" With a shallow curtsey she whisked her husband away towards the food. As soon as she was out of earshot my mother tugged on father's sleeve.

"Quickly, Sir Robart! You must introduce us to Master Brysney before anyone else arrives."

"Must I? Whatever for?"

"Don't be so tiresome! There's time enough for one dance before banquet begins."

"Indeed, and does Master Brysney require my permission to dance? That seems rather singular."

I bit my lip to keep from chuckling. Mamma only grew more flustered, though as we were nearing the rest of the guests she had to confine her frustration in a loud whisper. "My dear Sir Robart, you_ do_ delight in being obstinate. Master Brysney must dance with Anjey, of course! He cannot do that if he doesn't know who she is."

"Mamma, I'll be quite all right if he doesn't wish to dance with me," Anjey assured her, but our mother took no notice. She had just caught sight of the Curlews on the valley ridge.

"Nonsense, darling. Now do come _on,_ my love!" she said, pulling father's arm.

He did not have the strength to resist. "All right, all right; woman, you win. Come along girls."

Anjey took my arm with a look that I had learnt long before meant that she was embarrassed to the point of anger, but we nevertheless obeyed. I patted her hand and leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Don't worry, dearest. He may be a perfect gentleman."

"All the worse for me," she murmured back. "For then he'll have to ask me to dance just to keep mamma at bay. And if that happens, what will prevent her from ordering a wedding banquet for next fortnight?"

"I see your point. Best to—" I was prevented from finishing my advice by our arrival at his lordship's table.

"Ah! My good Sir Robart, how fortunate you've come," Lord Merybourne boomed, seizing my father's hand and clapping him once on the shoulder. His lordship never did seem able to say anything without booming. He was a big, barrel-chested man with a thick black beard threaded with white, whose conversation was often accompanied by expansive gestures that one had to take care to avoid. After nearly forty years as his lordship's clerk, my father had developed particularly swift reflexes. He took a step back to escape a second bone-shaking clap on the shoulder.

"My family and I have been looking forward to this night for some time, your lordship," he said, returning the handshake with a weaker one of his own. "We've been anxious to thank these Riders in person."

"Excellent, excellent!" cried his lordship. "As a matter of fact, I was just mentioning your family to Master Brysney here."

Neither my father nor I needed to see my mother's face to know how she lit up at his words. "I'm honored to hear it," papa said, scrupulously ignoring his wife's excitement. "Master Brysney, may I present my wife Madam Mina Bentaine?"

"You may, sir," the Rider in question said with a bow. He was a fine-looking man, slim, wiry and not very tall, with the tawny hair and light brown complexion common to those of Northern Arle. Besides his distinctive outfit, the cut of his hair also betrayed his rank. It was close-cropped on the sides but longer in the middle, tapering down to his neck where the ends had been braided and bound with leather. According to everything I had grown up hearing about the Riders, this was traditional style of Arle's winged warrior class.

Father continued his introductions. "This is our eldest daughter Anjey." I could sense Anjey blushing furiously at my side as mamma nudged her closer. She curtsied and papa turned to me before mother could pounce on the opportunity to expound on Anjey's many virtues—namely, her beauty and her singleness. "Our second eldest, Aliza. And our two youngest, Katarina and Leyda."

"Our middle daughter was obliged to remain home tonight," mamma added as the rest of us curtsied. "She suffers from frequent headaches, poor dear." I had to remind myself not to scoff. Mari suffered from no such thing.

"More's the pity," Lord Merybourne said politely. He turned to the Rider. "Even so Master Brysney, I don't think you can deny it. Are these four not some of the prettiest girls in the county?"

"I can offer no argument, your lordship," Master Brysney said, bowing again.

"_Such_ a pleasure to meet you!" mamma said before father could hurry us along. "Just this morning my daughter Anjey was saying how lucky we are to host Riders as distinguished yourself and your sister." She laughed and threw up her hands. "What a wonderful reputation you have! My sister in Edonarle will hardly believe it when I tell her that the same two who slew the lesser lindworm of Harborough Hatch stayed at _our_ Manor!"

At the words Harborough Hatch_,_ the woman standing on Brysney's other side started and looked in our direction. Her hard-featured face bore a stricken expression. I could tell at once that I was not the only one to notice. Anjey tensed. Master Brysney exchanged a glance with the woman, who I guessed was his sister. The discomfort in that glance was easy for anyone to read, save perhaps my mother. "My Silverwing and I are honored to be of service, madam," Brysney said. His tone had turned curt, but mamma took no notice.

"How skilled you must be, Master Brysney! I've heard such terrible things about those lindworm creatures. They—"

"Dear mamma, we're being rude!" Anjey interrupted. "We must not take Lord Merybourne and Master Brysney away from the rest of the guests." She nodded to the line of Manor folk forming behind us. "There are many others here who might wish to thank Master Brysney for his time here."

In an effort to assist my sister, I took ahold of mamma's arm and endeavored to draw her away. "Yes, indeed. And we must pay our respects to the other Riders, mamma."

Papa did his part to help us out of the mortifying hole my mother seemed intent on digging for his family. "Would you be so kind as to introduce them, Master Brysney?"

Brysney turned to his companions. "Indeed I would. Sir Robart, may I present my sisters Charis Brysney and Lena Brysney-Ruthven?"

"A pleasure, ladies," father said. Lady Lena was a short, stern woman whose mouth puckered in what seemed a permanent expression of disapproval. Her sister was a head taller and comely, with sunburnt skin and a freckling of white scars across her left cheek that shone shiny in the firelight. Both returned his greeting rather stiffly, and it seemed to me that Lady Charis watched my mother with an expression of particular distaste. Still put out by Anjey's interruption, mamma curtsied but said nothing. Perhaps encouraged by my mother's silence, Brysney continued.

"And this is my friend and brother-in-arms, Silverwing Scytheclaw," he said proudly, motioning for the great dark shape behind him to come into the firelight. The wyvern did so, articulating a few words in Vernish as he raised his appropriately named silver-scaled wing in greeting. Brysney interpreted at once. "He says he is as honored as I am to be here at Merybourne Manor, and we both look forward to spending more time in the country."

"The honor is ours, Sir Silverwing," father said.

Brysney translated to the creature, then continued. "My brother-in-law Edel Ruthven and his beorworm Burrumburrem."

Ruthven was an enormous man, even larger than Lord Merybourne. The arms beneath his leather chest piece were bare and the muscles beneath them were roughly the circumference of my head. One of his massive hands rested on the furry forequarters of Burrumburrem, and together they watched us with wary, narrowed eyes. Ruthven bowed only very slightly when Brysney gestured to my family.

"Good evening, sir," my father said. "I trust you are all settled comfortably here at the Manor?"

Ruthven grunted a short response that might have been in Beorspeak for all I could understand him.

"Yes indeed, and we are grateful for your hospitality," Brysney said. "Now, last of all…" He frowned and looked around. "Ruthven, where is Daired?"


	7. Chapter 7

|**Chapter ****7**|

* * *

The Daired was nowhere to be seen, though his dragon had not moved from her place behind Burrumburrem. Brysney addressed her with a few short words in what I guessed was the dragon-tongue Eth. Her response shook the ground and rumbled in the chests of everyone in the vicinity, but by Brysney's expression her answer appeared to be negative. He apologized for his friend and my father said not to worry about it.

"Besides," papa said, glancing over towards the newly crowded area in front of the banquet tables, "it looks as though it's time for us to begin our supper."

"A capital idea!" boomed Lord Merybourne from behind us. He raised his hands and turned to face the rest of the Manor folk. "Friends and guests! Let us eat!" His lordship did not need to announce it twice. Having seen mamma safely entrusted to our father's side, Anjey took my arm once more and together we made for the food.

"If you would be so kind, Madam Anjey, may I have a moment?"

Brysney's address brought my sister up short. I was scarcely less surprised. It was well that mamma had already moved out of earshot, or else she might have died of happiness right then and there.

"You may, sir."

I curtsied and took a step back, intending to leave her alone with him. But Brysney motioned for me to stay.

"You also, Madam Aliza."

"Me?"

"Yes indeed. I owe you both my thanks."

Anjey and I exchanged glances before she articulated the thought in both our heads. "Whatever for, Master Brysney?"

He lowered his voice, though the noise of chatter and clattering dishes from the banquet tables made it unnecessary. There was no one nearby who could overhear us. "Your kindness towards my sister. I trust you both know what happened at Harborough Hatch?"

Anjey answered before I could. "I haven't heard any of the particulars," she said, "but—and forgive me for saying so—the look on Lady Charis' face was not difficult to read."

Brysney fixed his gaze on Anjey with an expression of what seemed to be polite disbelief. "Charis lost her wyvern during our battle with the lindworm," he explained.

"I'm sorry for her loss," Anjey said in a tone that told me she thought she had offended him.

"She will be thankful to hear it, I'm sure," he assured her, sounding not the least bit offended, "though it is still a hard day to forget. You can understand why mention of it is painful to her."

"Indeed," I said, edging away from the pair of them as furtively as I could. "I am only grateful we could be of service to you and your sister, Master Brysney."

He did not take his eyes off Anjey as he answered. "The gratitude is all mine. It is a great blessing to find kindness in unfamiliar places, wouldn't you agree Madam Anjey?"

"Without a doubt, Master Brysney," Anjey said. Her voice was warmer than it had been when the conversation began. I took another step backward.

"Clare."

The single syllable stopped me in my tracks. "Pardon?" Anjey said, as startled as I was.

He ducked his head in what I took either as a half-bow or a gesture of embarrassment. "Clare Brysney. My name."

The look on Anjey's face was three parts surprise, two parts puzzlement and one part well-suppressed joy.

"If…if you'd like less of a mouthful when you say it," he said in a rush. "At least, a little bit less."

"Very well, Master Clare," Anjey said, and Brysney smiled.

It was at that moment that I, quite independently of my mother's schemes and dreams and hopes for Anjey, began to suspect that the Rider Clare Brysney would very soon be on his way towards falling in love with my sister. This idea was only reinforced as I curtsied my own dismissal. Master Brysney's response was an abbreviated bow, which I refused to be affronted by for the simple reason that he did so to avoid taking his eyes off Anjey.

I joined my family at the banquet tables, grinning.

Master Brysney asked Anjey to sit next to him during supper, during which they appeared to share an animated conversation. I could not help but watch the two of them throughout the meal, sheltered from their view behind half a wild boar, an immense bowl of boiled potatoes and the bulk of both my parents. My sister showed some reticence at first, but by the time she and Brysney had served themselves seconds she was smiling and chatting with the candor she usually reserved for her friends.

Of course, none of this went unmarked by mamma. She sat across from me at papa's side, and when she noticed where Anjey was sitting my father had to physically restrain her from turning around to stare at them. Nevertheless, the knowledge of their new acquaintance made her supremely happy, and she was not shy about sharing her joy. The Curlews were the unfortunate recipients of her ebullience.

"Oh Madam Curlew, have you seen? Master Brysney is eating with Anjey! Can you imagine what great fortune would it be for the Manor if they _marry_?"

Madam Curlew, a dry, thin-lipped woman with a sharp tongue and an even sharper appetite for gossip, was ostensibly my mother's dearest friend. In practicality she most often served as a friendly foil to mamma's matchmaking schemes.

"I have indeed, my dear." Madam Curlew speared a breast of roast duck from a nearby platter and gave it to little Amarie, who sat next to her, staring at the distant strangers with wide, vacant eyes. Madam Curlew smiled primly as she set the duck on her daughter's plate and began slicing it into strips. "But as my husband often reminds me, it is never wise to count one's sheaves before the harvest is gathered in. It does make for _such_ embarrassment on market day!"

Master Curlew was in charge of the Manor's accounts in the various town markets throughout Hart's Run. He could always be counted on for a pithy saying related to some aspect of his business. I am quite sure that a distant ancestor of his living at the founding of Arle was responsible for a great part of the Book of Honored Proverbs, especially those dealing with the cost of reliable help these days. Hearing himself mentioned by his wife, Master Curlew looked up, grunted once in assent and returned to his bowl of lentils. No doubt he was already calculating the cost of this banquet to his lordship's market interests in Little Dembley and Trollhedge. But fortunately for all parties involved, neither my mother nor Madam Curlew paid his reply any attention, leaving him to his calculations and them to their gossip.

"To be sure, to be sure," mamma said. "Of course, you know I would never suggest such a match based on my fancy alone." She attempted another glance over her shoulder, which papa stopped with a scowl. "Just look at them! To be such friends after only an hour in each other's company? It is very promising, Madam Curlew, very promising indeed. That is all I am saying on that score."

A plucking at my sleeve prevented me from hearing Madam Curlew's response. I did not mind. The two of them would go back and forth like that until sunrise if they were allowed.

"Aliza, is it true you met the Daired?" my friend Lora Curlew asked, leaning close to keep either of our mothers from overhearing.

I smiled. "In a manner of speaking. How did you know?"

"How does one know anything about what's happening on the Manor? My maid was passing through Greathall this afternoon. She said she saw you having a conversation with him."

"Conversation is a strong word."

"What do you mean?"

"He called me a servant. I corrected him; he was embarrassed; we parted. And I didn't help him when he went the wrong way to the Summer Wing. That's the extent of our contact. Not much in the way of conversing, I'm afraid."

Lora shrugged and took a sip of wine. "Perhaps. Still, of all the Manor folk save his lordship and your father, I think you're the only one who's had any interaction with him."

"Ha! Well, more's the pity for him. If he wants to be so very aloof, then that's his own ill breeding at work, not ours."

"Pride—yes. But ill breeding? I doubt it. He is a _Daired_ after all."

"So he's wealthy, titled _and_ arrogant. Why are you defending him?" I gave her a sly grin. "My dear Lora, have ten thousand drailings a year softened your judgment of Riders?"

She laughed and shook her head. "Not at all. I merely wished to know your opinion of him."

"Why of this Rider in particular?"

"Well, there _is_ a rumor spreading around the Manor that Master Daired is quite uncommonly handsome," she admitted after a moment's pause.

"The truth at last!" I cried, no longer worried that we would be overheard. Mamma and Madam Curlew were now firmly embroiled in a debate as to whether or not spring weddings were most practical for a Rider of Brysney's status. They would not be interrupted for anything less than the engagement announcement itself. "This quality of uncommon handsomeness would not by chance have any relation to his extravagant wealth, would it?"

"Aliza, don't be silly! I've never even seen the man up close," Lora replied. "I only wanted to know if there was any foundation to the gossip, or if everyone else is as swayed by his fortune as you seem to think they are. You've met him. I will trust your judgment. Is he a handsome man, or merely a wealthy one?"

Her sincerity brought my teasing to an end. I took a moment to consider the afternoon's encounter, returning to the Greathall in my mind's eye. _Was_ he handsome? His rank as a Rider certainly worked some influence over his appearance. Even I could not deny that. After all, no one would treat lightly the man who wore a sword embedded with the heartstone of a lamia. I tried to forget the extraneous trappings of his craft and thought only of his face. It was clean-shaven and lean, with dozens of small scars showing faint and white against his deeply sunburned skin. The Daired's features were sharp and spare, overseen by a pair of expressive black brows and a forehead creased with what seemed to be permanent worry lines. All in all it was a warrior's face, hardened by battle and bloodshed and a sort of ferocious joy that I could only assume arose from the knowledge that he had earned the loyalty of a dragon. Only his dark eyes showed any potential for kindness or pity. But there again his status as a Rider interfered, for during my brief encounter with him I saw neither.

Nevertheless, even to myself I could not refute the fact that they were, by the most rudimentary principles of symmetry and aesthetics, beautiful eyes.

"Yes, he's quite handsome," I said at last.

"Well then. At least that's cleared up. I would so hate to judge a man based solely on his wealth."

"Oh? Now that I have declared him handsome, does poor Master Daired find some leniency in your eyes?"

Lora laughed. "Great gods, quite the opposite! I am fully prepared to judge him not only for his rank as a Rider and his obscene yearly income, but also now for his appearance. Give me a plain, knock-faced but honest farmer above someone like that any day."

"My dear Lora, you do astound me! A great many women would be only too willing to take your place if a man like him found himself in love with you."

She scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. No man like that would ever fall in love with me. But it's not the individual with which I am concerned; it's the principle of the thing. You see, no one person can contain the full measure of every good quality. If they are beautiful then they are rarely kind; if they are kind then they are rarely rich; if they are rich then they are often neither kind nor beautiful. But most of all, if they are rich _and_ beautiful then they are _never_ kind. You see? It is the law of equilibrium. Try it out on anyone you like; you will find that I am never wrong."

"Oh Lora, your insights of human nature are, as ever, most illuminating. I only have one question. What do you make of Anjey?"

Lora nodded. "The principle still applies. You know I love your sister as you do, Aliza dear, but though she is both beauty incarnate and sweetness itself, neither you nor I would deny that she is quite poor."

I made no attempt to disagree. Though Lord Merybourne had always taken a conscientious interest in our welfare as the family of his faithful clerk, none of us Bentaine girls were by ourselves useful enough to earn our own living at Merybourne, save in menial labor. When our father died we would either have to marry someone from the Manor, move away, or become maids. I knew that I did not speak only for myself when I said that all three options were thoroughly distasteful.

"Point well taken, my friend. From now on I will bow to your superior intellect in all matters concerning wealthy, handsome young Riders."

She smiled and nodded to the next table. "On that very score, look who has just asked a certain lovely lady to dance with him."

I turned. Brysney had risen from his seat and, by the look on my sister's face, he had indeed asked Anjey to dance.

Lora nudged me. "Unless you had your heart set on sitting down for the rest of the evening, my dear, may I suggest we find some excuse to join them? I do believe your mother is going to notice the happy turn of events any moment now. And forgive me for saying that I think I'd rather be over there when she does."

My laughter was abbreviated only by my instant and enthusiastic yes.


	8. Chapter 8

|**Chapter** **8**|

* * *

Lora took my hand and together we stood. We were not the only ones to leave the table. Here and there a few people pushed back their plates, set down their wine glasses and rose from their seats. Most of them were Manor folk my age or younger. A few tarried around the table of sweetmeats, but one by one they each eventually made their way towards the open space on the other side of the roaring bonfire.

My friend and I followed them, drawn by the sound of Barrett the cartwright tuning his fiddle and Davy the carpenter's boy testing his new goatskin drum to the beat of an old Hart's Run harvest song. The others were equally drawn; I saw my two youngest sisters each pick a partner from the servants' table and head towards the bonfire to join the rest of us. Leyda was too occupied with her partner to notice the happy fate befalling her eldest sister, but Rina was more observant. She trotted up to Lora and me sporting a grin and one of the stableboys on her arm. "Aliza! Did you see who Anjey's dancing with?" she asked.

"Yes I did."

"Isn't it perfectly thrilling? Just imagine what it will be like to have a _Rider_ in the family!"

Before she could continue Barrett and Davy broke out a rollicking tune, pulling the dancers into the close-packed ring that would soon turn into a true Merybourne country jig. Rina dashed off to join them before I could reprimand her for her indiscretion. Lora gave my hand a sympathetic squeeze as we watched her go.

"At least you can take comfort in the fact that she'll have forgotten by the time we sit again, especially if she gets some ale in her," Lora said over her shoulder as she joined the knot of dancers.

"Yes, a tipsy Rina—that's exactly what we need," I muttered, but the steps of the jig had already spun Lora far out of earshot. I sighed. Maybe I _was_ worrying too much. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration; Anjey was happy and the Manor was soon to be rid of the gryphons, so why should I fret? If only for a single evening, I would not be responsible for Leyda and Rina's antics. Tonight I would enjoy myself.

The dancers circled closer and I readied myself to join them. A tap on my shoulder prevented it. I turned to see the freckled, apple-cheeked face of his lordship's bard beaming down at me.

"Evening, Aliza," he said.

"Evening, Aubrey." He did not bow and I felt no need to curtsey, for I had known Aubrey Brandon all my life. We were friends and had been so for almost as long as I could remember, despite the several years in late childhood when I was convinced he was the most irritating creature the gods had ever created. He was a few years older than me, nearly a head taller and already well established in his occupation as Lord Merybourne's bard.

"Would you do an old friend the honor?" Aubrey asked, extending his hand. My answer was only to take it and spin us both into the ring of stamping dancers. The jig was both well known among the Manor folk, and when we circled around to face the banquet tables I saw most of our friends and neighbors clapping along to the beat of Davy's drum.

As the dance continued, I noticed that there was one among our number whose enjoyment far outstripped everyone else's. Based on the size of his grin alone, it seemed Master Brysney had never been happier. For Anjey's sake I did my best not to stare, but it was hard to keep from picking the two of them out of the crowd. That was not difficult. Brysney had clearly never danced a country jig before. Anjey did her best to guide him through the steps, but he still made many mistakes, placing his foot where her foot should have been or turning the wrong way when the circle changed directions.

To his credit, Brysney bore his blunders with a good humor that I could not help but admire. Rider and wealthy man that he was, it still seemed that he was not above laughing at himself. The quality was thoroughly endearing. After seeing Anjey's shy smile widen steadily in Brysney's company, the issue was settled in my mind: the two of them had my permission to like each other as much as they wished.

I lost sight of Anjey and Brysney as Barrett and Davy finished the jig with a flourish, much to the delight of all who were watching from the tables. Aubrey and I stood with our hands on our hips, trying to catch our breath as the musicians prepared themselves for the next song.

"Quite—the turnout—eh?" he panted, nodding to the banqueting area.

"Quite—indeed," I said, equally breathless. He was right. Several dozen villagers had wandered into the Hall-under-Hill during supper and were now gathered around the other side of the bonfire. Many of them were preparing to join the dance. While Lord Merybourne had been careful to keep the expense of the meal reserved for those who actually lived on the Manor, the merrymaking that followed was free for all. I was glad to see the villagers. The more opportunities non-Manor folk had to interact with the Riders and their mounts, the more likely they would be impressed into helping his lordship bear the cost of their bond-price.

"Hill's going to have a fit if they try sneaking any food," Aubrey said as he took my arm and led me to the place the circle was reforming. "Ready for another go, clerk's girl?" he asked. "Or are you going to retire early tonight?"

"I could out-dance you any day, bard boy," I said.

"We'll see about that."

The music began again and we joined the ring. Davy and Barrett played another jig, this one shorter than the last but more energetic. By the time we had finished I was glad to take Aubrey's suggestion of a glass of iced wine, our earlier teasing notwithstanding. We carried our refreshment just outside the circle of firelight leaned against one of the crumbling stone arches that bordered the Hall.

"Davy's going to need a new drum if he keeps this up," I said, nodding to the red-faced carpenter's boy, his instrument clutched between his knees. He was currently occupied in binding his hands with strips of linen to keep them from growing raw on the rough goatskin hide. "His father is _not_ going to like that."

"Martell?" Aubrey snorted. "Rather. Davy'll be answering to _me_ if he thrashes that instrument. I told him to take care of his things."

"Why would he listen to you?"

Aubrey gave me a sidelong glance. "You haven't heard? Davy's agreed to be my apprentice."

I arched an eyebrow in the lad's direction. "_That_ Davy?"

"Aye, that Davy."

"Wasn't…?" I stopped, remembering. "Oh."

Aubrey nodded. His smile was gone. "Yes. Jem was supposed to be the one, but he…well, you know."

I did. Everybody did. No one on the Manor could forget the dark day when we lost the miller's son. "So Martell wants his boy to be a bard?" I asked, eager to change the subject.

"That's what he told me. Apparently Davy can't tell oak from ash, and he's got a gift for music. Bit rough around the edges, but I'll whip him into shape." Aubrey sighed and gave me a rueful look. "And—sorry to say it, Aliza—but after Jem it was either him or Mari."

I shrugged. As much as I loved my younger sister, even I could admit she was less than half the musician she thought she was. "Davy's a good lad," I said. "Don't bother apologizing. You made the right decision. A bard's life would be no life for my sister."

"Aye, I thought as much. She'd have to abandon her bestiary research and then what would become of her?" Aubrey finished off his glass in one satisfied draught and crossed his arms. "By the by, where has little Mari gone off to? I haven't seen her yet tonight."

"She didn't come. She told papa she wasn't feeling up to it," I said with a grimace.

He caught my look. "And wasn't she?"

"Well…" I chose my words carefully. "She doesn't really enjoy these things—you know, dressing up, dancing, seeing people and being seen. She's not fond of socializing."

"You mean she's not fond of having your mother compare her to her lovely sisters."

The grimace turned into a sheepish smile. "Yes. No. I mean…all right, yes," I admitted. "Especially when Anjey's set up as her standard."

Aubrey sniffed. "Poor Mari. But who could blame her?" He nodded to my older sister, who was in what looked to be close conversation with Master Brysney at the side of his wyvern. "You know, I think I would have actually had a chance with Anjey if I hadn't written her that sonnet when we were fifteen."

The memory nearly sent me doubling over with laughter. "Ha! Ha! Oh Aubrey, I wish you could have seen her face when she wrote that rejection note. She was _mortified_," I said. "Father thought the whole thing was hilarious."

Aubrey put a dramatic hand to his forehead. "Ah maiden, laugh not! I have a secret regarding that—er, misunderstanding—that might put me in a new light."

"How do you mean?"

"That sonnet was an assignment. We were learning to write verses, and the inspiration wasn't coming. So my master said to pick a girl and pretend I was in love with her. Naturally, then…"

"You picked Anjey."

"Aye, I did." His sober expression melted into a smile. "She was the only one on the Manor whose description fit the line 'wanton raven curls,' and I wasn't about to let that poetic gem go to waste."

I smacked his shoulder. "Anjey was truly upset about that, Aubrey!"

"And she received my sincerest condolences after the fact in a wonderfully worded letter that I never quite managed to get to her. But the sentiment was still there. Besides," Aubrey said, ducking around the back of the stone arch to avoid a second smack, "she seems to have forgotten the whole unfortunate incident!"

Even though that was true, I wasn't about to let him off so easily. I chased him around the arch and back out again into the firelight, but the fates and his own talent conspired against me. Just at that moment his lordship gave a loud cry for "a song from Brandon." At the sound of his name Aubrey stopped in his tracks, sending me crashing into his chest. He steadied me, then handed me his empty wine glass with a cheeky grin and backed away before I could protest.

"Take care of that, will you? My skill finds itself in demand tonight."

"You are _not_ forgiven, Brandon! We will continue this conversation when you've finished."

"Without a doubt, Aliza dear!" he called over his shoulder as the cooper's little girl ushered him towards the bonfire. I could only shake my head as I watched him take his place by the musicians. He knew as well as I did that I was jesting. By the time the banquet was over, there was very little chance either of us would have any desire to renew our sham row.

A hush fell over the Hall as Barrett struck a few slow notes on his fiddle. I set the two glasses on the ground and leaned against the arch to listen as the music died away. But Aubrey's song was not the first sound to take its place in the silence. In the stillness before he began, I heard whispers—a pair of them, quite close, coming from the darkness behind me. Perhaps I should not have paid them any attention, but alas, who could resist? The voices belonged to Master Brysney and the elusive Daired.


	9. Chapter 9

|**Chapter** **9**|

* * *

Brysney spoke first. "Great gods, Alastair, you _are_ difficult! Are you truly incapable of enjoying yourself?"

There was a distinct note of annoyance in Daired's voice when he answered. "Considering the circumstances, can you really blame me?"

"Don't be absurd_._ The country is a lovely place full of lovely people." I heard him inhale sharply. "Edonarle doesn't have fresh air like this."

"Clare, that's the smell of cow dung."

"Yes, scoff all you like, you damp toadstool._ I_ love it here. So does Silverwing. I daresay Akarra does as well. Room to stretch her wings, eh? When's the last time she had that in Edonarle?"

"The grounds at Pendragan are more spacious than this."

Brysney snorted. "Fine. If you insist on being miserable then I will not hinder you. But please, in the name of all that is decent, you _must_ show your face to these people. It's the height of incivility to stay skulking back here like some leprous hobgoblin."

"You've seen me at parties in the city, Clare. You know I'm miserable with small talk."

"That was the _city_, Alastair! People are different here. Come speak with them and you'll see that at once." He paused and lowered his voice, so I had to strain to hear his next words. "Besides, they've paid our bond-price in full. For a small Manor like this, five Riders couldn't have been easy to afford. Be considerate of that."

I smiled. My good opinion of Master Brysney was quite firmly established with those words.

"It's just money, Clare. They'll forget about the whole thing in a twelvemonth. We're here to do a job, not grovel before their country generosity."

The smile faded. _Of all the pompous, priggish, spoiled—!_

"Alastair! That kind of speech doesn't suit you," Brysney scolded.

Daired was lucky. His friend's rebuke was a thousand times gentler than mine would have been. I pressed myself closer to the arch and clenched my fists to keep from bursting out and telling that dragonmaster exactly where he could shove his money and his arrogant ill manners.

"Come now. If you won't do it for me, at least do it for Charis," Brysney tried. "She's having a hard time without him."

Daired did not respond right away. The high, sweet strains of Aubrey's song drifted through the crackle of flames and the taut silence of the two Riders behind me. He was singing the Lay of Saint Ellia. Part of me wanted to listen, for I loved the tale and Aubrey's voice was the best in three counties. But Daired spoke again and curiosity overpowered me. I leaned closer to hear his answer.

"Very well. I'll come and watch. But nothing you can say will convince me to dance. There I draw the line."

Brysney laughed. "The great Alastair Daired, frightened by a humble country jig? Oh, if only the lamia Broodmothers of Cloven Cairn could see you now! They would have given the wings off their back to find out this weakness of yours before you cut off their heads!"

"Give me a Broodmother in clean battle any day over this," Daired said testily. "Besides, you looked enough of a buffoon out there for both of us. I need not add to your embarrassment."

"Believe me my friend, you and your gracelessness are least in my thoughts tonight." Brysney voice warmed considerably. "But I promise I will not make you dance."

"Good." There was a pause. "Clare, are you talking about that girl?"

"Her and no other. I was wondering if you'd noticed. Did you get a good look?" Brysney hesitated and Daired must have nodded, for his friend continued with renewed enthusiasm. "Even you cannot deny that she is the most beautiful woman you've ever seen."

Daired scoffed. "Beauty is overrated."

"Oh ho! So you admit it?"

"That she is beautiful? I'm not blind, Clare, and I'm not a fool. I don't need to be a romantic sap like you to concede that she is lovely."

Grudgingly, almost against my will, my fists began to unclench. As rude and conceited as he was, at least the Daired had the sense to give my sister the credit she deserved.

"Her father's Lord Merybourne's clerk," Brysney said dreamily. "A good sensible fellow. I don't think he'd object to Anjey and I getting to know each other a little better when I'm settled in at North Fields."

"Sir Robart is her father?" Daired asked. There was a new note in his voice, and it took me a moment to identify it as alarm.

His friend did not seem to notice the change. "Aye. He's got four others, but Anjey's the eldest. If you'd have been with us earlier you would have met them."

"Quaint brainless wenches, undoubtedly."

"Someday your harsh words and high standards are going to come back to haunt you, my friend," Brysney warned Daired. "The youngest were—_seemed_—rather empty-headed, I grant you. But the second eldest certainly had all her wits about her. She and Anjey came to Charis' defense the instant Harborough Hatch was brought up. I daresay she'd prove a worthy acquaintance if you'd take the trouble to talk with her."

Daired said nothing. I am not ashamed to admit that I no longer felt any guilt in eavesdropping. Hearing Brysney's good opinion of my sister and me was undoubtedly worth a little prying, even if he was unaware of it. After a moment Brysney continued.

"She was lovely too, if you care to know. You might find her company quite stimulating."

"Don't credit me with that kind of goodwill too quickly," Daired said. "Describe her to me."

"So you'll fight by my side against a herd of mad centaurs but you don't trust my judgment when it comes to women?" Brysney said, exasperated. "I am blessed with the best of friends!"

"Describe her, please. And before you judge me, keep in mind the fact that waging war and wooing women are two very different things."

Brysney laughed. "Nonsense! They couldn't be more similar. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you'll find someone to bear your own heartstone. And unless I have grossly underestimated your worth to Lady Chara and House Pendragan, that will be a great day for Arle."

"Describe her," Daired repeated coolly.

"Very well. Er…a bit shorter than Charis, dark straight hair, big black eyes? Squarish face, dark green dress? I'm no good at this sort of thing, Alastair. If you want a poem ask that bard over there. But I can tell you that she was very pretty and seemed to have some brains in her head. That is worth some consideration, surely."

Daired made a dismissive sound in his throat. "As always, I'm sorry to disappoint you Clare. I believe I've met the girl in question, and I will give you this: she's not plain. But she seemed a thoroughly country wench, petty and small-minded. I doubt she's ever left the Manor, let alone the county. I would never be tempted into an acquaintance with someone so insignificant."

I could scarcely believe my ears. Any scrap of goodwill I had once felt towards Daired for his praise of Anjey's beauty was quite forgotten in this shameless, baseless censure. Who was _he_ to call _me_ petty and small-minded? Did he think that the virtue of his name gave him the right to think so meanly of everyone else? Insignificant _indeed_. The man was insufferable! I crossed my arms to keep my hands from shaking with rage. Alastair Daired was in no danger from me; that much was certain. After all, who in their right mind would want to befriend such a cold, haughty, snobbish _pig_? Ten thousand gold drailings a year would not begin to cover the cost of such an acquaintance.

To his credit, Brysney seemed to share my indignation, albeit to a much lesser degree. "Daired, you are beyond belief."

"Nevertheless, that is my opinion. You are free to think whatever you like about these women. It won't change my mind."

Brysney sighed. "It never does. Do as you like, my friend. I shall go on liking Anjey Bentaine and thinking well of her sister as long as I see merit to both, which will undoubtedly be for a long, long time. You will continue to be your miserable, lonely self until Akarra finally decides to knock some sense into you, which I pray will be soon. She does seem to be the only one you listen to these days."

"She gives good advice, Clare," Daired said. "You'd profit from listening to her every once in a while as well."

"Silver is an excellent judge of character, I'll have you know. And he approves of Anjey."

"Wonderful. I'm thrilled for you. Now do let's change the subject."

"Very well." There was the sound of a momentary scuffle, which was at once swallowed by the cries and cheers of the listeners around the banqueting tables. I looked; Aubrey had finished his song. I heard footsteps coming from the Riders' direction and felt an instant of panic. Before I could blend into the crowd and make my escape, the two emerged from the darkness beyond the wall—Daired in front, Brysney very firmly ushering him forward from behind. I froze, willing myself to be one with the stone. I did not want them to know I had overheard their conversation.

To my relief, the danger passed almost at once. The applause melted into general chatter as the musicians readied themselves for another song. Through it all I could just make out Brysney's renewed remonstrance of Daired's unwillingness to dance. Fortunately for his friend, Brysney had the honor to keep his promise and push Daired toward the other Riders rather than toward the dancers. I lost sight of them as the music began and the crowd jostled into place around the bonfire.

Perhaps it is curious that my first thought after eavesdropping on such an exchange was to find Lora and reenact it for her. Though my pride had been wounded by Daired's sharp words, I was comforted by the fact that he alone was in the wrong. His censure was brutal and unseemly and, if honest, then it revealed a mind as mean and ignoble as he had accused mine of being. At least I was justified. Alastair Daired was thoroughly beneath me.

I found Lora at the wine table, trying to pull Davy's little five-year-old sister Lucie away from the bowl of punch.

"No, no, sweetheart. You wouldn't enjoy that very much tomorrow morning. How about some water instead?"

Lucie crossed her chubby arms and frowned at Lora. "But I don't want to drink it tomorrow morning, I want to drink it _now_! It's not fair; Davy gets to drink it!"

Lora bent down to Lucie's level and put a hand on her cheek. "Ah, but do you know _why_ Davy gets to drink it? Do you want to know what Cook puts in that punch?"

Lucie nodded vigorously. Clearly the idea of joining in on a secret was as good as the idea of punch.

"Well, Cook takes all the old fruit from his lordship's dinners and puts them in a special bucket in the kitchen, where he forgets about them for months and months at a time. Then when Lord Merybourne announces we're about to have a banquet, Cook remembers the bucket of fruit, which is all soupy and smelly by now. So he goes down to the ice cellar and scrapes up the last of the ice shavings and throws them in the bucket. Then he mixes it up, strains it through cheesecloth and sets it up in a fancy bowl for the guests."

Lucie wrinkled her nose. "But then why does everybody want to drink it? It sounds nasty."

"Ah, that's a terrible thing grown-ups have to do. We all know what Cook did to make the punch, but we love him so much we don't want him to think that his effort has gone to waste. So we work up our courage and pinch our noses and drink it up to keep Cook happy. Do you understand?"

The little girl brightened. "But I love Cook too! I can be brave! Oh, do let me help finish it, Miss Lora."

Lora's expression was well worth the wait; she was stricken speechless by Lucie's reasoning. I handed my empty wine glasses to a servant and joined my friend at the girl's side. "But you see, Lucie, if you try this punch then you'll feel too sick to eat any of Cook's mulberry tarts. We adults are used to it by now, but you wouldn't be able to taste a single sweetmeat for a fortnight if you had a glass of punch tonight!"

Lucie looked horrified at the thought. Lora gave me a grateful smile as she patted the girl's shoulder. "So how about we find your mamma and let you enjoy those mulberry tarts while you're still young and free, eh sweetheart?"

It was too good of a bargain to refuse. Together the three of us sought out first a little paper-wrapped pastry from the sweetmeats table, then Madam Martell from among the spectators at the edge of the bonfire. Once Lucie was munching away on the tart in the safety of her mother's arms, Lora and I began a circuit of the Hall.

"Do you think that was wise?" she asked, glancing worriedly at the little girl we had just left. "I don't want her to hate us for lying to her when she grows up."

"Nonsense, my dear. She would never have left it alone if we hadn't. Besides, where did we lie? I think you gave her a very fine description of the fermentation process. No five-year-old could ask for better."

Lora laughed. "If you say so."

"I do."

"Very well." We skirted a knot of catcalling stableboys crouched at the edge of the fire, watching the dancers. Lora made a face. "By the by, Aliza, where have you been all this while? I lost you when Aubrey began his song."

I sighed and turned to face my friend. "Oh Lora, have I a story for you."


	10. Chapter 10

|**Chapter ****10**|

* * *

I told Lora of Brysney and Daired's conversation, giving her my best impersonation of the pompous dragonmaster. She played the perfect audience, laughing and looking shocked in turn. When I finished she shook her head.

"He based all of that on your encounter in Greathall this morning?"

"Where else? He hasn't seen me since." I crossed my arms and glowered, mimicking the standoffish pose I imagined Daired often took. "I must have made quite the impression to be despised so quickly and so thoroughly by so great a man. Don't you think?"

"Yes, rather." Lora's smile turned thoughtful. "Now do be serious, Aliza. You don't mind what he said? You'd be perfectly within your rights to mention this to his lordship. Such discourtesy from a guest should not be overlooked."

I chuckled. "Your concern is touching, Lora, but I don't think Master Daired will need my help exposing his true nature to the rest of the Manor. They'll see it for themselves soon enough. In the meantime there's no need to trouble Lord Merybourne with something I overheard while eavesdropping. Besides, I'm not hurt in the least."

"Then you are a great deal tougher than I'll ever be!" Lora said, looking a bit relieved. "If a Rider were to say those kind of things about me, I would certainly not have the spirit to recount it like you do."

I took her arm as we resumed our walk. "Ah, now there's the difference between us. You are too much like Anjey. Both of you have a guarded nature, unwilling to affront even those you dislike."

"Some might call that simple civility," she murmured with a smile.

"True, his criticism stung at first," I said, pretending not to hear her. "But his manner soon inoculated me against it. Now I care so little for Master Daired's opinion, he could declare me the most despised creature on earth and I would be entirely unaffected."

Lora sighed and pressed my hand. "Oh, I _am_ glad to hear that. It would not do to have you depressed over this. Or worse, seeking revenge."

"Ha! No fear on that score. Master Daired doesn't even know I overheard him. One cannot have a proper confrontation when one party is blind to their transgression, and I do have the feeling he would not be very amenable to the exposure of his own failings. Even I can recognize a pointless endeavor when I see one."

"Indeed, and a dangerous one. Do you remember hearing about that incident in Hallowsdean last Martenmas?"

"Which one?" I asked. The seaside city of Hallowsdean was famous for two things: siren sightings and scandals. Since I was interested in neither, I had not paid attention to the gossip from Hallowsdean for a long while.

"The one with the Rangers and the Daired? Didn't you hear?" Lora looked surprised. "The whole city was in an uproar. It delayed shipments of Elsian ale to Trollhedge for nearly a fortnight. Father was very put out about the whole thing."

"No, I didn't hear of it. What happened?"

"Apparently a regiment of Rangers encamped on the cliffs for the winter had the wit to pick a fight with the local Daired-in-training."

"Oh dear. Were there any left?"

"All but two. I heard the rest did get rather badly singed."

"Stupid Rangers."

"Stupid indeed. Doubtless the ones who lived emerged from the encounter wiser as well as warmer. Which is why I'm glad to know that you understand the futility of hating a Daired. Now—" she broke off. "Are you all right?"

I had stopped suddenly. We were approaching the side of the fire where the Riders and their mounts had stationed themselves, and the sight of them reminded me of a task I had forgotten.

"Aliza?"

"Yes? Sorry, what were you saying?"

"I was saying how thankful I was to know that you are _not_, under any circumstances, going to attempt something clever to put Master Daired in his place. You had quite a dark look on your face just then. I trust you weren't considering anything along those lines."

"Not at all."

"What then? Is something wrong?"

"Well…it's Mari. I promised myself I would make a sketch of the Daired's dragon for her before we left tonight. She's wanted one for her collection for ages now, and it really is the least I can do for leaving her alone tonight."

"Yes, I had been wondering where Mari was. She didn't come at all?

"No."

"Oh dear. Did your mother scare her off again?" Lora asked.

Lora knew my family only too well. "She said it was Mari's decision."

"So…yes."

"Aye. But in all fairness, mamma was the one who suggested I make the sketch. I can't be too hard on her. At least she had a little consideration for Mari's feelings."

"Fine, fine. I will take your word for it." She took my arm again and we continued to walk. "But now you've made me curious. How do you plan to get this sketch? I don't think either Master Daired or his dragon would take kindly to being drawn without their permission."

Lora had a point. The answer, however, was simple. "I'll ask them."

"You'll what?"

"It's not forbidden to speak with a Rider in public now, is it?"

"Well, no. But he…"

"…is bound to have the most extraordinary expression of annoyance on his face when I address him. I'm looking forward to it. Besides, what better way to punish Daired than to make him talk to someone he despises?"

"Weren't we just discussing your wonderfully wise decision to avoid angering Master Daired and his dragon at all costs?" Lora asked, raising her eyebrows. She kept her voice low, since we were now quite close to the Riders.

"No, we were discussing how silly it would be to confront him with the offense he does not even know I overheard. If this is the only way to get that sketch for Mari, then Master Daired will have to be more than rude to stop me. I'm not afraid of him." With that I released her arm and stepped away with a wink. "Now wish me luck if you must. I'll find you later."

"Aliza…!" But I had already turned to the Riders. Her warning fell on, if not deaf ears, then certainly stubborn ones.

Brysney was still dancing with my sister, and it seemed that Master Ruthven and his wife had either joined the festivities or slunk away as Daired had tried to do earlier. I did not see them anywhere near their wyverns. Lady Charis remained, however, as did Daired. The firelight flickered dull and coppery against their polished leather armor, and from above, the more intense shine of the dragon's pearl gray scales played over their faces like the faint pattern of moonlight on water. They were both watching the dancers with expressions of boredom and disdain, and in their determination to disapprove of our country frivolity, neither noticed my approach until I was only a few strides away.

I addressed myself first to Lady Charis. As bravely as I might comport myself in front of Lora, there was no denying the fact that now, with his arms folded across his chest, his dark eyes narrowed and his magnificent mount watching coolly over his shoulder, Daired cut an imposing figure. More imposing than perhaps I, in my pride, had counted on.

"Good evening, Lady Brysney," I said with a deep curtsy.

Lady Charis looked startled but responded without hesitation. She raised her right hand to her shoulder and bent her head over it in the customary greeting of a woman who has the good fortune to be wearing trousers instead of skirts. It is my opinion that whoever began that tradition among Arlean females is blessed indeed, for it is ever so awkward to curtsy in trousers. Her hair, which was the same tawny color as her brother's, was braided tightly along both sides of her head and gathered in a single long plait that ran from brow to the nape of her neck. The ends, which were bound in silver cord, swung over her shoulder as she bowed, and the two small adornments that had been tied into her braid came clinking into the firelight.

It took me a moment to recognize them. Glinting dark red and smooth as glass, they were the scales of a wyvern. Lady Charis wore the tokens of her mourning close to her heart.

"Good evening, Madam…Aliza," she said. Her voice was deeper than I had expected. I was impressed with her memory, for the light was bad and our earlier meeting had been brief.

"I do hope you have been able to enjoy yourself here at Merybourne, Lady Brysney," I began, feeling my face inexplicably redden.

"Indeed we have," she said in a rather dismissive tone. "It's very…quaint."

I credited her coldness to the pain of her recent loss and chose to ignore it. "We are very grateful to have you. Now do correct me if I am wrong, but my father tells me that you and your brother plan to remain at the lodge in North Fields for some time after the gryphons are dealt with."

"That is Clare's plan, yes. I will stay as long as he wishes me to stay."

"You are a very kind sister."

She bowed again. "We Riders live to serve, even if it is only each other." As she raised her head, I caught the look exchanged between her and Daired. Though swift, it seemed to say a great deal that I didn't understand, and my courage nearly buckled as Daired turned to avoid both our gazes. But it was Lady Charis herself who strengthened my resolve. "Forgive me, Madam Aliza," she said. "I have forgotten my manners. I do not believe you have met Master Daired."

I smiled and curtsied. "No, I don't believe I have. Master Daired, it's an honor."

He bowed in reply; quite deeply, I noticed. By the troubled look on his face I gathered he was thinking of our encounter that morning, but neither he nor I mentioned it. My smile widened as my courage returned. Despite his arrogance and ill manners, I was determined not to be afraid of this pretentious sod.

"Madam Aliza, the pleasure is mine," he said.

"We were just discussing how very lovely our visit to Merybourne has been so far, Master Daired," Lady Charis explained. "Wouldn't you agree?"

"Quite," he said stiffly.

"Once the horde is driven off, are you planning to remain at North Fields with Master and Lady Brysney, Master Daired?" I asked.

"I haven't given thought to the matter. It is not likely."

"Do—"

"Madam Aliza, is that not your eldest sister dancing with my brother now?"

I turned to look where Lady Charis was pointing, feeling the tiniest twinge of annoyance for her interruption. My attempt to chasten Daired would fall flat if I was not allowed to make conversation with him. "Yes, that's my sister Anjey."

"They seem to be getting on rather well, don't you think?"

The question took me by surprise. "Yes, quite," I said cautiously, wondering why she had seen it necessary to bring the two of them up at that precise moment.

"Master Daired? What is your opinion?" she asked. "Has my brother found a friend here in Hart's Run?"

Daired looked embarrassed to be drawn any further into the discussion, but there was no way he could avoid speaking without showing disrespect to his fellow Rider. "I think Brysney is perhaps too easily pleased," he said at last.

My involuntary gasp and Lady Charis' expression of reproach were smothered by the general applause that filled the air as the music ended. If any doubts had remained in my mind, that response would have shattered them. I was now convinced; Rider or otherwise, Alastair Daired was the proudest, most disagreeable man to have ever set foot on Merybourne Manor.

Some small comfort came in the fact that Lady Charis seemed to share my surprise. "Master Daired, for shame! I think Clare has impeccable judgment."

"Then as always, madam, I defer to your insight as to the workings of your brother's mind." He bowed again. "If you will excuse me, ladies."

I could not let him escape. "Master Daired?" I was glad the words came out strong and clear. Though in his eyes I was already such a distasteful conversational partner, it would not do to show my anger. "Would you be so good as to wait a moment?"

He stopped and—for the first time, I noticed—willingly met my gaze. It was perhaps the force of shock that caused the aberration, since there was no way a man of his rank and attitude would be used to the direct address of a quaint, small-minded country wench. I had already stunned him with it that morning, and the satisfaction I felt now was just as potent as it had been then.

"Yes, Madam Aliza?"

"Do forgive my boldness, but I have a rather unusual request."

"Make it then."

"I'm afraid it is a request for the honorable…drakaina," I said, mentally holding my breath as I said the final word. It was a gamble I was taking, using the address Mari had once informed me was the only way a non-Rider dared speak to a dragon. Drake for males, drakaina for females, and gods help me if I was wrong.

Lady Charis' reaction was the first to tell me I was not. "Ah, Master Daired! I do believe we have a little dragonspeaker in our presence. How well informed you are, Madam Aliza."

"Where did you hear that term?" Daired asked, ignoring his companion's condescension.

"My younger sister is a scholar," I told him. For a moment I wished that Mari could be here to hear herself defended, even if it was the only time she ever did. "She taught it to me. We may be a small Manor, Master Daired, but there are some among us with very big minds." Perhaps that went too far; perhaps it revealed my eavesdropping. I didn't care anymore. Whether the revelation was uncivil or not made no difference; he _would_ know our worth.

Daired's reaction was not what I expected. He did not say a word. Without taking his eyes off mine, he simply stepped aside, leaving nothing between me and the beautiful but fearsome immensity of the dragon.


	11. Chapter 11

|**Chapter ****11**|

* * *

There are several observations one makes when coming face to face with a dragon. First, one realizes at once how very small humans are in comparison. Second, one might also think how easy it would be for that dragon to dispatch a life, either with the barbs on the massive spiked tail, or the talons the size of a plowshare, or the jaws quite large enough to swallow a calf whole. Or, if the dragon in question was careless, simply smothered beneath the scaly, stone-hard belly. And those dangers all pale in comparison to the constant threat of dragonfire.

Under the majority of circumstances, these two observations are also the last one makes, as the latter is swiftly proven true.

But if an individual finds themselves in more fortunate circumstances, they might have time to progress to more pleasant reflections. For though dragons are deadly, they are also some of the most breathtakingly graceful creatures in the world. Standing as close as I was to the Daired's dragon, I was vividly reminded of this fact. I had once thought she stood as high as a small cottage; now I saw my error. She was larger, four men tall at least, about the size of the millpond wheel. Her great wings lay folded flat against her back, but she could have easily touched both sides of Greathall if they were extended to their full width.

Even in the dim light I saw that those wings shone milky pewter gray, dull until the firelight struck them with a bluish-gold luster. The rest of her scales were darker, almost iron gray, but with the same pearly sheen. Though the majority of her body was hidden either in shadow or by the drape of her wings, I took away the impression of a lithe, wiry frame, powerfully muscled in the shoulders but tapering to sleekness in the tail and snout. A crown of short spikes encircled her head. It was the perfect natural expression of the regality that seemed so appropriate to her kind.

All this I took in in a glance. No matter how stunning I found the dragon, it would not do to stand around gawking at her. Dragons are not famous for their patience. I stepped forward and curtsied as deeply as I was able. "Greetings, drakaina," I began, and then paused. Mari's instruction notwithstanding, I was not sure what else one should add to a dragonish salutation.

The dragon lowered her head so that it was level with mine. Her eyes, which I caught a glimpse of before I respectfully dropped my gaze, were the color of clouded amber. Among many other things, my younger sister had warned me of the danger of looking a dragon in the eye. It might be considered a challenge.

After a long minute, the dragon exhaled forcefully and rumbled a few words in Eth. My cheek smarted with the sudden heat, but I held my ground as I glanced at Daired for a translation. He ignored me entirely, returning a long answer to his dragon in the same gravelly, reptilian language, which, though he spoke it fluently, sounded far less impressive coming from a human throat. His dragon literally shook the ground when she replied.

Whatever it was she said did not seem to agree with Daired, for he scoffed and looked away—again without translating. But my frustration with him soon evaporated as the dragon turned to me. "You have a request for me, little madam?" she said in Arlean.

Her hot, dry breath played through my hair, and the fanciful part of my mind quaked for fear that it was now alight. I subdued that feeling with a little shake of my head. "I do, drakaina. With your permission, I—"

She interrupted me with a phrase in Eth. At the sound, Daired emerged from his sulking with a start. He spun to face his dragon with a sharp word and a look of fierce indignation, but the dragon only response was a deep, chest-rumbling laugh.

"I'm sorry, drakaina," I said when she quieted. "Have I said something offensive?"

"Don't…" Daired began.

"Oh hush, Alastair, before your fastidiousness kills us all," the dragon said. "Do tell her." I had no experience in reading dragon expressions, but by the tone of her voice I gathered that she was immensely amused.

Daired turned to be with a look of mixed annoyance, displeasure and—wonder of wonders!—genuine curiosity. "Madam Aliza, my dragon wishes me to introduce the two of you properly. Her name is…She-Whose-Wings-Bring-the-Tempest," he said quickly. _"Ahla-Nal-al Kanah-sha'an-Akarra,_ in Eth."

"You may call me Akarra," the dragon said.

I curtsied again. "Aliza Bentaine," I said. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Indeed, well met, Aliza. Please ignore my dear Alastair. He wishes me to be as particular as he is when it comes to the matter of my name, but I say it is mine to give to whom I chose." Akarra shifted her weight onto her hindquarters and raised her head so that she was looking at the top of mine. "Now what did you have to ask of me?"

I had to suppress a smile. Daired's dragon thought him as high-and-mighty as we did! "A small thing, no more than your patience. I have a sister who was obliged to stay home tonight, though I know she would have dearly liked to see you if she could. Would you allow me to sketch you for her?"

Akarra's renewed laughter sent heads turning in our direction from as far as the banqueting tables. "A small thing indeed! You needn't have asked, but your courtesy does you credit. I give you permission."

"Thank you, Drakaina Akarra," I said, feeling the thrill that came from speaking to a dragon at last unmitigated by fear of her. As unpleasant as her Rider was, Akarra seemed as amiable as dragons were capable of being. I began to wonder if the House Pendragan paired Rider and mount based more on their differences than their similarities. No non-Rider knew for certain how a Daired chose and bonded with his or her dragon, but I had a few guesses of my own. It must be a difficult process indeed. I did not doubt that some like Akarra had good reason to be miserable with their partner for the rest of their lives.

"Akarra, Aliza," the dragon said. "Simply that. I am not so noble as a drakaina, though I am honored that you think me so."

Daired grunted at that and folded his arms. Even Lady Brysney looked a little startled at the dragon's gentility. I took that to be quite the compliment. "Very well. Akarra."

"Where will you draw?" Akarra asked.

I nodded to the crumbling wall just beyond her left wingtip. "There's enough light over there, I think. It won't be a work of genius, but I am grateful for the opportunity nonetheless. As is Mari, I'm sure."

"You are most welcome. And never fret; I shall be for you as still as a stone."

Lady Brysney remembered her voice just then. "But Madam Aliza, you have no paper and ink. What will you draw with?"

I withdrew the folded scrap of parchment from the cuff of my sleeve, where I had tucked it earlier in anticipation of just such an occasion. The stub of charcoal I had wrapped carefully in a strip of oiled linen and tied in the folds of my sash. "With these, Lady Brysney." She had no answer, so I turned to the dragonmaster, who had taken to watching me with narrowed eyes. "Master Daired." I curtsied in farewell. "Thank you again. Good evening."

If either of them mumbled a responding farewell I did not hear it. I was eager to start on my sketch. The remains of the fallen wall were close and I had climbed them many times as a child, but it the dark made the ascent more difficult than I would have liked. It was a full ten minutes before I was situated enough to begin drawing. True to her word, Akarra remained motionless all the while, her back legs folded beneath her, forelegs stretched out in front and neck arched above the unmoving figure of her Rider. Perhaps it was only the shifting shadows and my own imagination, but from where I was sitting it looked as though he was still watching me. I shook my head. If I was the object of his scrutiny—and that was strange enough—then I would simply have to ignore him. By some favor of the gods, I had secured the goodwill of his dragon for this one task; the Rider was therefore no more concern of mine. I bent my head to my work.

The bonfire cast just enough light on both Akarra and my parchment to see the lines as I drew them, bold and black against the animal skin, capturing, if not the details of her form, then certainly the essence of it. Nevertheless, I was far from satisfied with the finished result. It would take a great deal more time and a great deal more light to create a truly accurate drawing, and of those I had neither. The banquet would soon be ending. Even now I heard his lordship announcing one final song from Aubrey Brandon, and I knew what would follow. As soon as Aubrey had finished, father would collect his family and badger us on home before mamma had a chance to propose to Brysney in proxy.

With a sigh I gathered up my charcoal and parchment and climbed down from my perch. As pleasant as the current company might be for his eldest daughter, I could not blame my father for wanting to leave the banquet as soon as it was polite. Nevertheless, there were a few farewells I wanted to make before bidding Hall-under-Hill good night. Akarra was the first.

"Ah, Aliza. Do I have your leave to move?" the dragon said as I approached. She stood alone; Daired and Lady Brysney both seemed to have made themselves scarce. Rude as it may have been to admit, their absence was no great loss to me. Her recent bereavement notwithstanding, Lady Charis had not given the most favorable first impression, and Daired was Daired. I was glad to speak with Akarra without his judgmental glares interfering.

"Yes indeed, and thank you."

Akarra yawned, gave her wings a little shake and lowered her head. "Good. May I see what you've done?"

I held up the parchment as close to her as I dared, praying that a stray spark or even the heat of her words would not send my work crumbling to ashes. Thankfully, Akarra was either very careful or the parchment was tougher than I gave it credit for. There were no flames and no ashes, only a satisfied grunt from Akarra. "It has been a long time since I was small enough to see myself in a looking-glass, Aliza, but I do think that is what I would see if I could. Well done. Now—"

"Aliza!"

It was Anjey's voice. We both looked up as my sister emerged from the crowd around the bonfire, leading Brysney by the hand. Their faces were glowing, though Anjey did look rather astonished to see me in conversation with the Daired's dragon. Brysney either did not notice or did not care. His eyes were all for Anjey.

"Master Brysney," I said with a quick curtsy. "Anjey, is something wrong?"

"Not at all," she said. "We've been looking for you. Clare—Master Brysney has the most generous invitation for us."

Her slip of the tongue did not go unmarked, but I only smiled. "I'd be delighted to hear it," I said, glancing up at Akarra, who was watching our interaction with interest. It seemed rude to exclude her. "First, though, do let me introduce my new acquaintance. Akarra, this is my sister Anjey Bentaine."

Akarra nodded as Anjey curtsied, and by her dazed look I was quite sure my sister was now feeling thoroughly stunned. "Aliza has been sketching my portrait, Clare," the dragon told Brysney. "And I am sure that even that vain wyvern of yours has never had finer."

"Are you certain?" said Brysney with a laugh. "Well then, Madam Aliza, one day I may have to commission your talent on behalf of my Silverwing. In the meantime, however," here he turned to Anjey, "I was just telling your sister of my intentions to settle in the lodge at North Fields."

"I had heard the rumor, but I am glad to hear to confirmed," I said. "Will you be staying there long?"

"Yes, that is the plan. At the very least, I have no intention of moving again for awhile."

"Then Merybourne Manor is fortunate indeed!"

"I am pleased to hear you say so, Madam Aliza. In the meantime, however, I'm afraid your lovely Manor remains quite unfamiliar to us Riders. We would very much like to begin our pursuit of the gryphon horde, but without guides it will likely prove a much longer and messier process than anyone would wish. And so…" He glanced again at my sister, whose hand he still held. "Anjey was telling me of the skill you both possess on horseback. I wondered if there was anything I could say to persuade you both to assist us as we prepare to hunt the foul creatures."

Anjey's astonishment on meeting Akarra was nothing compared to mine. "I…I'm…" Curious to know how Anjey and I could possibly be of any use to five Riders? Unsure of my purported skill on horseback, since the last time I had ridden was at least a year ago? "I'm sure my sister and I…" I began, but the look on Anjey's face made me stop.

There was excitement and admiration in that look—and something else I had never seen there before. If it was not love, then it was certainly the seed from which love could one day spring. Anjey's eyes were blazing with the determination to follow Master Brysney to the North Fields and, if necessary, to the ends of the earth. He did not need to ask twice; she would go. Whether I came with her to help along the way was entirely up to me.

"I'm sure we would like nothing better, Master Brysney," I said at last.

By the size of Anjey's smile I knew I had given the right answer. But her joy was nothing to his. "Excellent!" He released Anjey's hand and swept into a bow that might have rivaled an emperor's. "We will owe our victory over these beasts to the ladies of the house of Bentaine!"

"You are too kind, Cl—Master Brysney," Anjey said, growing pale, "but I hope you do not expect us to be of any use to you on the battlefield." The two of us exchanged a glance. "I'm afraid neither Aliza nor I have any experience in combat, and certainly none against a horde of gryphon."

The joyous expression fell at once from Brysney's face, to be replaced by one of mortification. "Oh! Oh, no, no, not at all. A thousand pardons Madam Anjey, Madam Aliza—that was not what I meant. I would not imperil either of you for the world! Tomorrow my companions and I simply wish to establish the lay of the land around the lodge. From what his lordship has said about the North Fields, they sound like the ideal location over which we can engage the horde." He reclaimed my sister's hand with a rueful smile. "Forgive me if I frightened you. There will be no danger tomorrow; I promise you that."

Anjey's smile returned. "Then you can count on our assistance, Master Brysney."

The air above me shuddered in the waves of heat that rolled from Akarra's open mouth. I glanced up in surprise; she seemed to be laughing.

Neither Anjey nor Brysney noticed.


	12. Chapter 12

|**Chapter ****12**|

* * *

My prediction proved accurate. As soon as Aubrey finished his song, my father appeared from what seemed out of nowhere and urged Anjey and I to make our final farewells. Already in tow he had a sullen Leyda, a weary-looking Rina and mamma—whose dull, wine-glazed eyes brightened beyond measure when she saw her oldest daughter in Master Brysney's company. Anjey and I obeyed our father's wishes, parting with Brysney as rapidly as courtesy allowed to keep our mother from further embarrassing the family.

Though Brysney looked reluctant to let Anjey go, he bid us all good night with great humor and spirit. Akarra did the same, albeit with more reserve, and received a gracious farewell from my father in turn.

I noticed that no one made the effort to find the other Riders.

When we returned to our quarters in the Manor House, the first thing I did was to give Mari the sketch. I found her lying on the drawing room floor, fast asleep before the dying fire with her books and journals spread around her. Her precious, unfinished bestiary lay open beneath her head. I slipped the scrap of parchment in between the pages and crept out as quietly as I could, for I did not wish to wake her.

Once the drawing was duly delivered, I retired to my room. The events of the day had taken their toll and I was exhausted. But though it came quickly, my sleep was not sound, for my promise to Master Brysney and the knowledge of my sister's newfound affection proved to be more than enough to keep me tossing in dreams throughout the night.

The morning came almost at once, announced by both the rising sun and a knock on my door. Thinking I was still dreaming, I answered it. Anjey entered in a hurry and sat on my bed. Feeling rather stupid with sleep, I blinked until she came into focus, and what I saw surprised me. My sister was already dressed in a loose-fitting shirt and what I was sure were the only pair of trousers she owned. Her hair, which was usually a mussed and tangled mess in the morning, had been combed and plaited down her back. I rubbed the drowsiness from my eyes and sat up. "Off somewhere?"

"Yes, and you should be too."

"What do you mean?"

"The Riders, Aliza!" There was both excitement and exasperation in her voice. "We agreed to help me show them around the North Fields today, remember?"

I yawned. "Aye, I remember. But I thought we'd at least give the dew a chance to evaporate before we set out. It's scarcely dawn, Anjey."

"Yes, and Clare wished to get an early start!" she protested. "His wyvern thought there would be rain later today. They want to make the most of the weather while it's fine. So _do_ get up!"

There was no helping it. I was now wide awake, or as wide awake as one could be under such circumstances. "All right, all right," I said, climbing out of bed with a frown. "But you get to be the one to explain to father where we are going."

"Yes, yes. I will. Now get dressed!"

Perhaps Anjey should not have agreed so quickly. It was no surprise that mamma should support our going, but papa was against it at once. We caught them both at the breakfast table. A groaning Leyda sat between them, her head in her hands, and Mari sat across from her sister, smiling primly as she buttered her toast. Leyda's wine-induced misery seemed to have no affect on her. Rina was absent altogether.

Anjey did not say anything at first. She took a handful of apples from the table and stuffed them into her rucksack, followed by a few hard rolls from the basket by Mari's elbow. It took our family a moment to realize what we were doing.

"Gods above, where are you two going dressed like that?" mamma asked as soon as she noticed our garb.

"Master Brysney has invited Aliza and I to accompany him and the other Riders to the North Fields this morning," Anjey said as she slung the rucksack over her shoulder. A stunned silence greeted this announcement. Mari set down her toast. Father looked up from his boiled eggs. Even Leyda raised her head.

"Oh! Oh, goodness!" mamma cried. Excitement restored her composure much sooner than the rest. "He asked for _both_ of you?"

"Yes, mamma."

"But _why_?" father asked, catching up to his wife at last.

"Master Brysney wishes us to show them the lay of the land before they flush out the gryphon horde, papa. He thought that our insight might prove valuable when it comes to a fight."

"And rightly he should!" mamma said as she stood. Her cheeks glowed bright red with enthusiasm. "When do you meet him, my loves?"

"Now, or as soon as possible."

"_Now?_ Then what are you waiting for? Go, go!" she cried, making shooing motions with her hands. But father pushed back his chair and prevented our departure, as I anticipated he would.

"Absolutely not! Anjey, Aliza, stay where you are. I will not have my daughters gallivanting off around the North Fields in the company of strangers and dangerous beasts."

"Papa, Master Brysney assures me that there is no risk of gryphon attack," Anjey tried. "We'll be perfectly…"

As expected, mamma interrupted. "Sir Robart, think what you're _saying_! Would you deny your Anjey a chance to make another impression on a Rider worth five thousand a year? By his own invitation too! For shame, sir, for shame!"

"Madam Bentaine, may I remind you—"

But mamma was well on her way to working herself into a passion, and there could be no reasoning with her in that state. "Here your daughters are taking steps to secure their future, and you would hinder them? What a cold, heartless father you prove to be!"

"Mina, it's _dangerous._"

"Don't you dare think to shift the blame, Sir Robart! You know as well as I do that there could be no safer place in all of Hart's Run than with those Riders."

"My love—"

"None of that! They will go, and they will go with your blessing. Nothing less will satisfy me." Mamma put her hands on her hips and looked away from the breakfast table where her youngest daughters sat complacent, watching the row without much interest. A similar spectacle happened almost weekly over some meal or another in the Bentaine household, and they already knew the outcome. We all did—even papa. Faced once again by the adamantine will of his wife, father sighed and sank into his chair.

"Very well. Anjey, Aliza, you may go."

Mamma smiled in triumph and sat again. She shook out her napkin, spread it on her lap and began to work on her plate of cold chicken and toast as if nothing had happened. "There now. I think today is going to be a fine day after all!"

Papa ignored her and reached for our hands. "You may go on one condition. Be_ careful_, my dears. Promise me you'll be careful out there."

"We will, father."

"Good," he said gruffly, releasing our hands and returning to his breakfast to disguise any emotion he might have been feeling. "Now, now. Do as your mother says; be off with you."

We curtsied and obeyed, but not before Anjey and I had both pressed a kiss to his forehead in farewell.

The sun was just brushing the weathervane on the roof when we emerged from the stables, leading two of his lordship's mares and a very irritated stableboy. As residents of the Manor House and members of Sir Robart's family, we had permission to use what horses we wanted, provided they were not needed elsewhere on more important business. The stableboy knew this, but he seemed to have a hard time believing that Anjey and I had been summoned on an errand for the Riders. After the second explanation had failed to make any impression on his thick head, we gave up and simply saddled the horses ourselves.

The boy followed us as we led them from the stable, at times complaining, at times teasing, until we reached the main courtyard at the front of the Manor House. Then he fell silent. Daired, Brysney, his sisters and his brother-in-law were all waiting there, their formidable mounts ranged beside them. Daired in particular looked displeased at the sight of us.

"Anything else, Renny?" I asked the stableboy as I shortened my horse's stirrups. "Any other concerns? Please, do tell us."

"Uh…no, Miss Aliza."

"Thank you for your help," Anjey said. "Don't worry, we'll have the horses back by nightfall."

"Aye, Miss Anjey. Er…enjoy your ride," he tried, then reddened and hurried away. My sister only smiled.

"Good morning, ladies!" Brysney cried. He waved for us to come over. "Is anything the matter?"

"Good morning, Master Clare! Nothing's the matter. Renny just wanted to know when we'd be returning," Anjey said as she mounted her horse. I followed her example. "Now, we await your orders."

He bowed. "And we await your guidance, ladies Bentaine. Shall we make for the North Fields at once, or is there another route you would like to show us?"

Anjey considered his request. "The river path might be easiest."

"For those not flying, of course," I added, glancing at the other Riders. Luckily, we were the majority. While Ruthven's beorworm was a massively muscled creature built for strength and speed, he had no wings, and Lady Charis was, as expected, mounted on his lordship's prized gray mare. And though he technically would be flying, I had no doubt that Brysney would want to stay as close to Anjey as possible, so I counted him among our number.

"Then we shall take the river. Ladies—"

"Are we going or not, Brysney?" Ruthven asked. A grumbling thundercloud might have sounded less irritable. Burrumburrem shifted from paw to paw at his side, the spikes along his scaly tail rising in a reflection of his Rider's cross mood. I had to remind myself not to stare, for it was the first time I had seen a full-grown beorworm in daylight. It was no longer a mystery why the first Arlean settlers had thought the creatures half-bear and half-serpent. From the front half, his heavy shoulders and blunt snout gave him the appearance of a bear, complete with the dense brown pelt. But his hindquarters and underbelly were covered in fine coppery scales, ranging from the size of a halfpenny to the size of a dinner plate. Burrumburrem's tail, which was thin as a whip and at least twice his body length, might have easily been mistaken for that of a snake. It was raised now, draped over his back and twitching with anticipation.

"Yes, yes, do let's." A touch of color came to Brysney's cheeks as he swung up on an obliging Silverwing. His companion's tone could not be mistaken; now was no time to charm my sister. The Riders had work to do.

We set off without another word.

Though neither of us would call ourselves proficient, a lifetime spent on the Manor befriending various grooms and farm folk had taught both Anjey and I enough to hold our own on the back of a horse. Still, after what felt like hours of riding, I was beginning to regret the whole arrangement. We took the path that wound alongside the River Meryle, and, consequently, through the whole of Merybourne Manor. A great number of early risers were eager to greet our little party as we headed north. Much to my chagrin, too, for Brysney's attention to my sister did not go unmarked. Davy and a band of his friends visiting from Little Dembley even had the courtesy to whistle at them both as we passed the carpenter's yard.

Thankfully, Anjey and Brysney were quite absorbed in the making out of their own conversation, for the steady beat of his wyvern's wings made it difficult for them to hear each other, let alone anyone else. The other Riders did not comment on the greeting. Indeed, neither Daired nor Ruthven acknowledged the townsfolk at all. Lady Charis and her sister paid the carpenter a stiff nod when he came out to scold his boy, but that was the extent of their 'good morning.' I smiled and waved to compensate for my companions' aloofness.

It was with great relief that our party at last crossed the old stone bridge that marked the border of the Manor proper. Beyond its weed-choked arches the River Meryle flowed freer, gathering speed and strength from the numerous little tributaries that trickled in from the hills. Past the bridge, the land too grew wilder. Hedgerows thick with thorns and clambering ivy separated his lordship's fields and pastures from the wooded acres, which grew denser and more untamed the closer we got to the North Fields.

His lordship had maintained his lands as best he could after the gryphon horde descended on Merybourne, sending Barrett and Martell and a woodcutter from Trollhedge out to clear the paths once a month. Even so, nature seemed to have pulled ahead of his efforts. The path by the river was navigable, but only just. Woods had grown up on one side, sending underbrush creeping toward the bank. Lady Charis, Anjey and I soon found ourselves picking our way through a tangle of vetch, flowering phlox and sticky, hair-fine ferns.

Lady Lena and her husband's mounts preferred to wade in the shallows of the river, and after Silverwing grew rather annoyed with the overhanging branches that kept getting caught in his wings, Brysney reluctantly joined them. Akarra brought up the rear of our party. She also walked in the river, her body breaking the current for the rest of the Riders. Daired sat proud and high upon her shoulders. I sensed rather than saw his critical gaze on me more than once, but the business of guiding my horse aright put any anxiety I might have felt quite out of my mind.

"Madam Aliza, do you think we'll be approaching the North Fields any time soon?" Lady Charis asked after we had skirted the fifth ill-grown sapling.

"Yes, quite." I pointed ahead. "That bend in the river is the last in these woods. The fields slope down from there."

"You may even be able to see the lodge," Anjey added.

Lady Charis pursed her lips. "I cannot wait."

She didn't have to, for my memory had not failed me. The next bend in the river was the last beneath the shadow of the trees. Not ten minutes later our group emerged, blinking in the bright sunlight. Before us spread the North Fields. Acre upon acre of wildflowers filled our sight, sloping gently downwards to the center of the valley before the woods claimed the land again, filling the hills on the horizon with tossing green. In the far corner of the Fields we could just make out a sprawling stone house. A smudge of smoke rose from the chimney, thin and gray against the trees. It seemed his lordship had already sent a steward to prepare the lodge for the Riders.

"This is North Fields," I announced as our party assembled on the bank of the river overlooking the Fields. Burrumburrem shook himself and his master grunted in reply. Lady Lena and Lady Charis made polite expressions of gratitude for leading them there, and Daired said nothing at all.

"And that is the lodge, Master Clare," Anjey added, nodding to the smoking chimney.

"Wonderful! An excellent spot—an excellent spot indeed. I like it already."

"But brother, if it comes to a fight here on the Fields, we won't be able to keep the high ground," Lady Lena reminded him. "It might prove rather a disadvantage. Don't you think, Daired?"

"It's not ideal," he answered with a grim face.

In reply, Akarra spread her wings and gave them an experimental flutter, sending leaves and twigs scuttling out from under her. "Not bad for a quick ascent, though," she said. "And we could always chase them _into_ the valley from the woods. Silverwing and Bluescale can flush them out, and Burrumburrem, Charis and I will take care of them once they're here."

"My thoughts exactly, Akarra," Brysney said. "Madam Anjey, have you noticed the gryphons congregating in any particular place? In the woods nearby, perhaps?"

My sister shrugged. "His lordship forbade anyone from the Manor to hunt down the covey after little Jem was killed, but they do seem to come from the forest," she pointed to the northwest, where the hills were rocky and the trees grew dense. "Over that way. We've taken to calling it the Witherwood. Every attack so far has originated from there."

Ruthven frowned and spoke for the second time that morning, sounding as ill tempered as ever. "Those rocks would make a good covey. If you all plan to keep yourselves occupied here, Burrumburrem and I will reconnoiter." Without waiting for a response, the beorworm broke into a loose-limbed canter, which took him and his Rider out of sight in a matter of minutes.

"I had better go with him, hadn't I?" his wife asked her sister with a sigh. Lady Lena did not even try to disguise her annoyance.

"Yes, do."

"We'll ride toward the lodge, Lena," Brysney said as her wyvern leapt into the air. "Meet us there when you have news."

Her answer, if she gave one, was lost in the sound of the wyvern's wingbeats. I watched her go after her husband, wondering how we would bear the deprivation of their joyful company.

"Now, shall we?" Brysney said to Anjey. "I confess I am eager to see—"

"_Sssssss!_"

Even Daired started at the sharpness of Akarra's silencing hiss. "What's wrong?" he asked his mount.

She turned to face the forest and cocked her head, hissing again for quiet. The tiniest sliver of fang showed from beneath her curled upper lip. A gust of wind spiraled through the underbrush, dry and chill and ominous, and my horse shifted uneasily beneath me. I shivered.

"Akarra?" Brysney whispered. "What do you hear?"

Her only answer was to spring into the air with a roar, for it was at that exact moment that a gryphon came hurtling out of the shadows of the trees with a soul-curdling shriek.


	13. Chapter 13

|**Chapter ****13**|

* * *

The gryphon burst from the woods with wings unfurled, its leonine hindquarters rippling as the muscles stretched to their breaking point. In a flurry of blood-matted feathers and scales it sprang for the neck of Anjey's horse, talons raking against flesh as it struggled to push itself into the air. A terrible scream broke from the horse's now-mangled throat. It bucked and reared, lashing out with its hooves to drive away its attacker, but the gryphon ignored the horse entirely in its panic to get airborne. I caught a glimpse of its yellow eyes, strained and wide and mad with fear, before Akarra lunged forward and ended its life with a single snap of her jaws.

It was over in the space of a heartbeat. Nonetheless, I could not help but admire my sister. No Rider could have kept her seat better; despite the horse's best attempts to throw her, she had stayed on its back. But the gryphon had grievously injured her mount, and as the blood flowed the horse stumbled and dropped to its side. Anjey threw herself from the saddle before the poor beast could crush her. Relieved to see her clear of one danger, it took me a moment to notice the next. She did not rise from where she fell.

"Anjey!" Before my mind knew what my body was doing I found myself off my horse and crouching next to her, anxiously searching for injury. "Are you all right? Anjey? Answer me!"

With a muffled grunt she rolled over. Her face was white and wracked with pain, though she tried to hide it with a grim, tight-lipped smile. Blood was spattered against her cheek, and I could not tell at first if it belonged to the horse, the gryphon, or to her.

"No trouble, eh?" she muttered, glancing down at her right arm. I followed her gaze and saw at once that the horse's neck was not the only thing the gryphon's talons had raked. Anjey's sleeve was torn open and four deep lacerations ran lengthwise across her forearm. They were bleeding freely, soaking the front of her shirt. Her left hand, which she had pressed against the wounds, was shaking. "Papa is not going to be happy when he sees this."

"No, no—oh gods, no!" Brysney cried, appearing at her other side. His face was as white as hers, and there was a look of pure and utter horror in his eyes. "Anjey…Anjey, I'm so sorry…"

"We need to stop the bleeding. Can you bind a wound like this?" I asked. There was no time to humor his feelings of self-condemnation. "I've never tried it before."

He took a deep breath and grew calm. "Aye, I can. We'll need some wrappings," He pulled a knife from a sheath strapped to his boot, expecting, I'm sure, to cut away a piece of his tunic for a bandage. But there was no loose tunic to cut, only polished leather plates of armor. He swore under his breath.

I extended my hand. "Here, let me."

Brysney gave it to me without question. I cut away the hem from my own shirt, tucked in the ragged edge and handed him the knife and cloth together. In silence he wrapped Anjey's arm as best he could, wincing when she did but otherwise working in silence. While he bound up the wound, I surveyed the scene of the attack. The dead gryphon caught my eye. It lay sprawled at Akarra's feet, wings twisted and broken, talons still dripping with blood, mouth wide open in a scream that would never again be heard. Something about the gryphon bothered me, and it was not only the fact of its existence. Mamma's words came to mind as I watched Daired climb down from Akarra's shoulders and nudge the carcass with the tip of his sword. She had said the safest place for us was with the Riders, and she should have been right. What creature would dare attack anyone in the presence of a dragon, a wyvern and three Riders? Gryphons were not famous for their intelligence, but they were not stupid. Even if this particular gryphon was one of the duller ones, it should have fled from Akarra, not flown straight into her jaws.

Unless, of course, the gryphon was running from something else.

It was then that I noticed that my mare had bolted. No sooner had I marked its absence than Akarra gave a deep, chest-throbbing growl. "'Ware!" she cried, staring into the trees and baring her teeth. "Alastair, Clare, Charis—there are more!"

Brysney started and leapt to his feet, but neither he nor I could doubt her. We could hear the cracking branches and frenzied gryphon shrieks for ourselves. They were coming, not from the northeast as would be expected, but from the west. Lady Charis drew her sword and wheeled her horse around to meet the creatures. "Clare, get those two down into the Fields!" she cried before urging the gray forward.

Brysney bent down and spoke close to my ear. "Madam Aliza, can you help your sister to that ridge over there?" He pointed to a little hill nearly a bowshot from the forest's edge, close to the bank of the river.

"Yes."

"Good. Here, take this." He unsheathed his knife once again and pressed it into my free hand. I took it and slipped it into my belt loop. "Just in case. Silver and I will be right behind you." With that he rose and drew his sword, striding forward to join his sister, his wyvern and his friend in a line between us and the trees.

Anjey groaned. I tore my gaze from the Riders and placed a hand under her shoulder to help her up. Her face was whiter than before and her eyes were closed, but she opened them at my touch. "Anjey, can you stand? We need to get away from the woods."

With a grimace she tried to sit up, clutching her arm. I noticed that the blood had already begun to soak through the bandage. "Aye. If you support me, I think I can."

"Good," I said. "On three. One…two…three." Biting back a cry, Anjey rose clumsily to her feet. She swayed once and almost fell, but I caught her and put her good arm around my neck to steady her. "Keep your arm as high as you can," I said, hurrying towards the hill that Brysney had indicated as fast my sister she was able to go.

"What about the others?" Anjey asked, breathless. She tried to look over her shoulder to see what the Riders were doing behind us, but I shook my head and pressed her to go on.

"They'll be fine; don't worry about them, dearest. Just keep walking."

She obeyed, but the growing pallor of her face belied her look of determination. When we at last reached the crest of the hill, it was all I could do to keep Anjey from crumpling to the ground. I sat her down as gently as possible on a patch of matted grasses and crouched beside her with Brysney's knife drawn. "How is the pain?" I asked once she had caught her breath.

"It doesn't feel quite as bad as it looks."

"It looks terrible."

"You're quite the comforter." Her grin returned, strained and wry but sweet nonetheless.

"Sorry."

"I didn't say it doesn't hurt. Once the shock passes it will hurt plenty, I have no doubt."

"We'll have you safe inside with clean bandages and plenty of wine before that happens," I promised.

"Aye, do," she muttered, turning to the forest. "Aliza, what was that gryphon _doing,_ attacking us like that?"

"I don't know," I said, "but it looked to me like it was being hunted."

"By what?"

The clamor from the forest grew louder, and I felt Anjey's good hand fumble to find my own. I took hers and held it tightly. "I do believe we're about to find out."

No sooner had I finished speaking than the rest of the gryphons broke through the final line of undergrowth and out into the open. There were only a half dozen or so, not nearly a whole horde, but like the first gryphon they were in a fearful frenzy, heedless of all they destroyed in their panicked rush to escape whatever pursued them. Heedless, perhaps, of all but a full-grown dragon. Their cries of alarm and confusion echoed over the Fields as they scrabbled to check their flight away from Akarra's bared fangs and Silverwing's clawing talons and Charis' scything sword. Some of the luckier ones were close enough to the woods to retreat that way. The rest either took to the sky or tried, bravely and quite foolishly, to fight.

Possessed of the combined strengths of both an eagle and a lion, gryphons can be formidable creatures, but they are deadlier and more coordinated in large numbers. Scattered by surprise and maddened by terror, the few gryphons that attempted to stand their ground were very soon either decapitated, eviscerated, or run through. At least one miserable beast found itself dispatched by all three means. Akarra and her Rider chased the gryphons that flew. They did not reach the ground alive.

And still we did not yet seen the thing that had driven them to us in the first place. Anjey squeezed my hand as Brysney, Daired and Lady Charis began to make their way toward the ridge.

"We'll have quite the story for Renny, won't we?" she asked with a slight smile.

I did my best to return it, though the sight of her increasingly blood-drenched bandage worried me. "Most certainly."

"He'll—oh, blast everything," she muttered, the smile fading. "Aliza, the _horse_."

"Oh no." In the midst of tending Anjey's wounds, I had forgotten about her borrowed mare. It now lay dead at the edge of the forest, surrounded by gryphon carcasses.

"Poor creature. Do you think Lord Merybourne will forgive me?"

I glanced at her arm. "You couldn't have prevented it. He can't blame you for that."

"Perhaps not." She sucked in a deep breath and faced the approaching Riders. "But then again, it isn't me I'm worried he'll blame."

I followed her gaze to the place where Silverwing had landed, dropping down on the knobby scales of his wingtips to allow his Rider an easier descent. Brysney ran straight to my sister. "How are you?" he asked, kneeling at her side.

"I think I've been better," she said, "but never fear; I'll live."

"That _is_ good to hear. Now, do you think you can walk a little farther? We'd best get you to the lodge. I'd offer you Silver's back," he said, glancing at his wyvern with an apologetic look, "but I'm afraid he can only bear one, and I wouldn't wish to have you ride alone."

"Don't worry, Master Clare. I can make it to the lodge on foot." She released my hand and cradled her injured arm. "I don't think I'd do very well riding any sort of creature at the moment. I fear I may be a guest at the lodge for a little longer than we may have planned."

"Of course, Madam Anjey. You must not go anywhere else until you are better. Here, allow me," he said as I helped Anjey to her feet. She took his offered arm with what I gathered was supposed to be another grin, though it turned out to be more of a wince.

Akarra touched the ground as soon as we stood. Daired leapt down from her back with sword drawn, his dark eyes intent on the forest. Still astride the gray, Lady Charis joined him a moment later, her body tense and her weapon raised, trembling with the readiness to fight. "Any ideas what we might find ourselves dealing with, Madam Aliza?" she asked, her tone curt and cold. "No ladons or lindworms you might have hidden away in this part of the county?"

"None that I have ever heard of, Lady Brysney."

"Pity," she muttered, but further speculations as to the cause of the gryphons' flight were silenced, for just then the offenders themselves emerged from the forest. To our collective surprise, it was no long-living ladon with impenetrable golden scales, nor was it a slimy, slavering lindworm leaving death and desolation in its wake. Indeed, it was not a beast at all. It was a band of men on horseback—a small band, but well disciplined. The sight of the slain gryphons gave them only a minute's pause. As soon as they caught sight of our party, the band whipped their horses into a gallop and headed straight for us.

Lady Charis heaved a bitter sigh as she sheathed her sword. "Oh no, no, no. Not _again_."


	14. Chapter 14

|**Chapter ****14**|

* * *

"Lady Brysney? Do you know them?" I asked, torn between the need to follow my sister and the desire to find out who had caused her injury.

"No, but I know what they are. Clare?" she called to her brother. "You might want to stay a minute."

"Charis, I can't…"

"They're Rangers."

"Oh." He spoke a few words into my sister's ear and she nodded. The two of them returned to the top of the hill, Anjey leaning heavily on his arm. "Right then. Rangers."

"Did your Lord Merybourne happen to enlist a regiment and forget to tell us about it, Madam Aliza?" Lady Charis asked.

I bristled at the insinuation of discourtesy on his lordship's part. He would never risk insulting his guests by hiring these wandering mercenaries to do the same job. Lady Charis should have known that. It was a struggle to answer her graciously. "Certainly not, Lady Brysney. Lord Merybourne has no—" I paused.

"Yes? No what?"

_No more money to pay a regiment,_ I was going to say, but it seemed impolitic to mention the manor's financial troubles. "No need for Rangers," I said instead.

"Indeed." By her tone I could not tell whether she believed me or not, but it didn't matter. The Rangers had gained the bottom of the hill and were rapidly rising to meet us. They would answer for themselves momentarily.

Daired sheathed his sword and raised a hand in greeting as the leader of the company halted his horse in front of us. Each of the Rangers wore a dark red cloak over leather hauberks or mail shirts, but by the tattered state of their uniforms I guessed they had been on the road for a long time. Most also wore light helms on their heads, and it was only when the leader removed hers did I realize that she was a woman. Her face was tan, sweat-streaked and hard-featured, with a jutting chin and small, sharp eyes. She returned Daired's greeting with a smart salute.

"Good morning, sir."

"Good morning, madam. What is your business here?"

The Ranger took his bluntness in her stride. "We had a report of gryphons in the area, sir. My name is Forstall, captain of the Lower Westhull Rangers. Our regiment left it yesterday fortnight looking for work, and the rumors brought us here." She eyed Akarra and bowed slightly in her saddle. "Of course, we had no idea there were already Riders engaged. I'm sorry if we intruded."

"You don't owe your apology to us, Captain Forstall," Brysney said, putting one arm around my sister's shoulders. "Only to this lady here."

Forstall had the tact to look troubled at the sight of Anjey's bleeding wound. "What happened?"

"A startled gryphon is more dangerous than you might think, captain," Lady Charis said coolly. "Take care that you look ahead before you go driving out a pack like that."

"Begging your pardon, lady," Forstall replied, a shade sharper than I'm sure she had intended. "We took reasonable precautions. Our scout reported no habitations out this way, barring that lodge over there, and we thought it was empty. We did not think there would be anyone in harm's way."

"Nevertheless, one cannot be too cautious."

"Without a doubt. We will be sure to be so in the future." Lady Charis sniffed and turned away, but Forstall was not finished with her yet. "Before we leave, lady, would you and your companions be good enough to tell us in which direction is the nearest town? If we are not needed for the gryphon hunt, my men and I would prefer to find some other useful employment in the area."

"Naturally. We are glad to help," Lady Charis said in a voice that suggested helping the Rangers was the last thing she wanted to do. Brysney caught her eye and she added, "If you'll excuse my brother, he needs to tend to the lady's wounds."

"By all means."

With nothing more than a nod in the regiment's direction Brysney took his leave. Silverwing accompanied him, and between the two of them they half led, half carried Anjey to the lodge. In the few minutes we had been standing on the hill, my sister had grown even paler, and her bandage was quite soaked through. I nearly started after them to help her, but Lady Charis prevented me. "Madam Aliza? You are a resident of these parts; you might be better able to tell Captain Forstall how to get to the nearest town," she said, looking down on me from atop the gray mare.

"Oh. Yes, of course." I came forward, annoyed at the delay but perceiving the need for it. Brysney would take great care of Anjey in my absence, even if that absence only lasted a few more minutes. "Have you got a map, Captain Forstall?" I asked. It was easy enough to direct them back to the Manor without one, but I was conscious of the trouble the arrival of an unexpected regiment of Rangers would cause Lord Merybourne. Sending them to Trollhedge or Little Dembley would be much easier on all parties involved.

"Wydrick?" Forstall called to her men, and one of the Rangers came forward.

"Aye, ma'am?"

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Daired start. "The map, Wydrick, if you please," Forstall said.

The man called Wydrick dismounted and removed his white-plumed helmet. "Ma'am. We—"

He was interrupted by a scathing hiss from Akarra. Surprised, I turned to look, and what I saw would have sent chills down even the bravest spine. Akarra's back was arched; her spikes bristling, eyes narrowed and mouth open, sending waves of heat rippling from that dagger-lined maw. Daired stood frozen, his gaze locked on Master Wydrick's. Never before had I seen such an expression of mingled shock and fury as I did on Daired's face at that moment. The hand he had raised to his sword was trembling. I glanced at the Ranger. A little of the color seemed to drain from Master Wydrick's face, but besides that he betrayed no great agitation at the sight of Daired. He gave both dragon and Rider a stiff bow.

Daired's only response was to leap onto Akarra's back and growl something in Eth, at which she closed her mouth and sprang into the air. Within minutes they were no more than a dark dot in the sky above us.

Master Wydrick broke the spell that shock had laid on all of us with a rather forced laugh. "Apologies, ladies. I fear the sight of me has not inspired much magnanimity in your Daired."

"Wydrick, what was that all about?" Forstall asked.

The Ranger shook his head. "Nothing that I know of, ma'am." He turned back to Lady Charis and me. "He is a Daired, is he not?"

"Who else would be traveling around the countryside in the company of a dragon?" Lady Charis asked.

I cringed at her rudeness. Even if he was a Ranger, and even if Daired did find his company so distasteful, Master Wydrick did not deserve that kind of hostility. He looked to be a good sort of man. At the very least he was not offended by the Riders' incivility, which showed a fortitude that I admired. And besides, he _did_ cut a very fine figure in his red cloak and battle-scarred hauberk. His hair was fair, a bit longer than non-Rider fashion would typically allow, and quite wild. Beneath brows of equal wildness were eyes of pale, piercing green. It looked as though his company had not had a chance to bed down in a proper inn for while, as his formidable jawline sported several days' worth of stubble. Rough though it was, the overall effect was not unflattering.

Even in the midst of my concern for my sister, I could not be expected to be wholly insensible to the charms that particularly handsome men possess, and Master Wydrick was a particularly handsome man. With that in mind I tempered my reply with as much warmth as the circumstances allowed. "Master Wydrick, I believe you wished me to direct you to the closest town, yes?"

His smile showed his gratitude for the change of subject as he pulled a battered square of parchment from his cloak. "Yes, of course." I recognized it as a map of south Arle, ranging from Hallowsdean and Lower Westhull on the west coast, to the peaks of wild Dragonsmoor in the north, to the lands around Edonarle in far south. The hills of Hart's Run lay between the Edonarle and the sea. A few fine pen strokes marked Merybourne Manor and the River Meryle. "Where would you say we are, madam…?"

"Bentaine, Master Wydrick. Aliza Bentaine." I pointed to a patch of parchment just above the Manor. "This is the North Fields, or as close as I can approximate. That is were we are now." I moved my finger to the hills just south of the Manor, where the river wound its way through a series of gentle valleys. "The town of Trollhedge is just about here. They should have accommodations for a regiment of Rangers, if that is what you're looking to find."

"I do hope we are, Madam Aliza," he said, rolling up the parchment and replacing it in the folds of his cloak. His smile returned. "It _is_ a beautiful county."

"Indeed it is, Wydrick," Forstall said before I could answer. "Now I do believe we have taken up enough of these ladies' time. If it's not too much trouble, I think the rest of us would like to find lodging before this weather turns sour. Would you oblige us?"

"Yes, ma'am." He bowed again, once to Lady Charis and once to me, before he remounted his horse. Some corner of my mind took note of the fact that his bow to me had been deeper. I returned it with a curtsy and a smile of my own.

Captain Forstall saluted us. "Farewell then, Lady Rider, Madam Bentaine. Accept our apologies for our intrusion, and give our best wishes to the injured lady for her speedy recovery."

Lady Charis inclined her head just enough to avoid being uncivil, though not enough to avoid being unfriendly. "We will."

No doubt already inoculated against the Rider's cold manner, Forstall wasted no more time in parting. With a cry she wheeled her company around and led them back down the hill. I watched them until the white plume of Master Wydrick's helm had disappeared under the shadow of the trees.

Save for the invitation to ride behind her and my polite but unenthusiastic acceptance, neither Lady Charis nor I offered to break the silence as we made our way to the lodge. Both Silverwing and Captain Forstall's predictions of ill weather proved to be true by the time we dismounted in the courtyard of the lodge. Despite the clear sunrise, by late morning the clouds were piling up thick and fast, and the chill breeze that had first announced the oncoming gryphon had gradually strengthened to a gale. Rain rode the crest of the wind, stinging our faces as Lady Charis handed the mare's reins to a waiting groom. The sight of the boy surprised me, and I was impressed that his lordship had staffed the lodge so thoroughly on such short notice. For a moment I upheld the hope that the Riders would also impressed. That hope faded as Lady Charis entered the lodge without giving the groom—or anything else—a second glance.

Before I could follow her, a faint hissing sound drew my attention to the little side yard to my left. I looked; it was Akarra. Akarra and Daired, to be precise, but it was Akarra who made the sound, for wherever the rain struck her it sizzled and turned to steam almost at once. She lay on the ground, her forelegs stretched out in front of her and her head level with the paving stones. Daired was kneeling on the ground next to her, one hand on her neck, staring out into the Fields with a vacant, troubled look in his eyes. He was already nearly wet through, but he didn't seem to notice. _Odd._ I hurried inside before he saw me.

I found the rest of our group sitting in the main room, Master Ruthven and his wife included. The lodge was not small by town standards, but with six humans, two wyverns and a beorworm, the room felt a little crowded. I was glad Akarra had decided not to attempt an entrance. To compound the issue, the steward appeared at the same moment I did. "Ah, Miss Aliza! I did not realize you were also joining Master Brysney's party," he said, his whiskers trembling beneath a capacious hooked nose. From the look in his rheumy eyes I gathered that he was already calculating without pleasure the extra preparations my presence would require.

"Sorry to be a bother, Henshaw," I said, wringing the water from my hair. "This was all rather unexpected."

"I have a room made up for your sister," he replied in the same tone, casting an anxious glance towards the fire, where I saw Anjey resting on a pile of hearthrugs. "Shall I do the same for you?"

"No need. I'll stay with Anjey."

"Very good, Miss Aliza." He bowed and backed out of the room to finish the housekeeping arrangements, muttering all the while.

"It looks as though we may be here for a while yet," Lady Lena said, peering out the window at the increasingly darkening sky. "I certainly don't fancy flying in this weather."

Ruthven grunted his assent and Lady Charis heaved a sigh. "No indeed," Brysney replied as he waved me over. "Madam Aliza, do come sit by the fire and dry off."

I obeyed, taking a seat next to Anjey on the hearth. She smiled and reached for my hand. I was pleased to notice that some color had returned to her cheeks. Master Brysney had found some clean rags and re-bandaged her arm, and it looked as though the bleeding had stopped. At the very least it had slowed. No more crimson stained the white cloth.

"Quite the adventure we've had today, eh?" Anjey said softly.

"Aye, quite." I thought of Daired's strange reaction to Master Wydrick and wondered if I would have the chance to hear the story behind it any time soon. It would be even better if it came from Wydrick himself. "More than enough for me."


	15. Chapter 15

|**Chapter 15**|

* * *

The rain continued throughout the night, riding on a cold wind and riven every few minutes with lightning. I watched as it grew dark, my hopes of returning to the Manor that night fading with the daylight. The storm showed no show of abating, and by nightfall it wouldn't have mattered much if it had. Lady Lena was right; it would be at the risk of a broken ankle to venture out into the thick, sticky muck that the North Fields had become, and no dragon or wyvern worth their wings would willingly fly into a lightning storm. Like it or not, we would be spending at least another day with the Riders—four of whom I had already decided I did not care for much at all. I thanked the gods that Brysney was so obliging, or our time would have been unbearable.

It too was some small, selfish comfort that Anjey was imprisoned with me, though I grieved the circumstances that made her even more helpless to leave than I was. She showed remarkable fortitude in front of the Riders, but by the time she and I had settled in the room Henshaw had prepared, that act was wearing thin. We were about to climb into bed when she at last allowed herself a whimper of pain. I looked up in alarm. Her lovely face was drawn, and there was a sheen of sweat on her brow that had not been there an hour before.

"How bad is it?"

Anjey lifted the edge of the bandaged, grimaced, and hastily replaced it. "Bad. They're, ah, deeper that I thought."

"May I?" She nodded and I did as she had done. Now that the bleeding had slowed, I was able to see what she meant. The four lacerations ran from elbow to the inside of her wrist. They were raw and ugly, and I caught a glimpse of bone before I had to turn away.

"Aliza, I'm sorry…"

"Anjey, don't you _dare_ apologize," I commanded, fighting the dull knot of nausea that stirred in my stomach. "This is not your fault. I don't care how against your nature it might be, I am_ not_ having you pretending it was."

She smiled faintly. "I was going to say I'm sorry you're the one who gets stuck taking care of me. I know you don't like the sight of blood."

I took her good hand and kissed it, feeling the nausea subside. "I only really mind it when it's from someone I love. And don't worry; as long as I'm here, I won't _let_ anyone else in this house care for you." Seizing the opportunity to lighten her mood, I grinned. "Well…unless Master Brysney offered. I think he'd do a fair job of it. I doubt you could find more attentive hands anywhere."

Anjey pulled away, blushing furiously. "Oh, hush! Aliza, don't tease me. I'm in pain, remember?

"You're right, you're right. I'm sorry. No more teasing." I helped her prop her arm up on a pillow, then made for the door. "I'll go see if Henshaw has anything that can help you sleep."

That was not as easy as I expected. It was a quite the endeavor to rouse the old servant from his slumber, and even more so to convince him that an errand that had not been taken care of before bed could not wait until morning. In the end I managed to persuade him to unlock the pantry, and I returned to my room with a handful of dried aspen bark, a thimble of powered passiflora, a cup of dried mint leaves and a few flowers of the Saint Marten tree. My knowledge of herblore was by no means extensive, but I had picked up a few things from my uncle during the summers he visited us from Edonarle, and was fairly confident that I knew what I was doing.

With the ingredients I had gathered I did what was in my power to ease Anjey pain. For a long while I soaked strips of aspen bark and the Saint Marten flowers in warm water and bathed Anjey's wounds with the infusion, then mixed her a cup of mint tea and passiflora. That seemed to ease the worst of the pain, and after an hour or so under my ministrations she fell asleep. I stayed awake for a little longer, washing and wrapping her arm again, watching, worrying. When at last I was sure she slept soundly, I curled up at her side and joined her in sleep.

My dreams that night were confused, full of fangs and horse screams and the maddened eyes of a gryphon, chased by the equally maddened Daired and his snarling Akarra.

Above it all watched a fair-haired stranger with pale green eyes and a red cloak. I woke with the sound of his laughter in my ears.

By morning, Anjey was worse. It was her tossing and turning that roused me. When I inspected her arm I was dismayed to see that, while the wounds had not bled during the night, the skin around them was already tight and inflamed. A fast-moving infection had set in, and the herbs I used were either too slow or too weak to fight it. I shuddered to think what horrible things those claws had torn before they raked my sister's arm. Dead things, foul things, dozens of things that could kill her quickly from the inside…

I put a hand on her forehead. It was dry and hot. She woke at my touch, her eyes bright with fever. Clearly she needed stronger medicine. My stomach tightened again, but this time it had nothing to do with the sight of bone through ragged flesh. There was one plant I could think of that would serve her needs, and only one place I knew it grew nearby. Half angry, half fearful, I heaved a sigh. _Of course it would be there._

Anjey looked up curiously at the exclamation. "Something wrong?"

Willing my expression not to give away either the extent of the wound's progression or my own unfortunate revelation, I shook my head. "Not at all." I changed her bandage with a smile, put cool cloths on her brow, and ordered her to rest. She watched without stirring as I pulled on my torn shirt and muddy trousers.

"Where are you going?"

"Downstairs. I want to see if Master Brysney or his sister would be willing to fly back to the Manor to let papa know we're alive." I did not tell her where else I planned to go.

"I don't know whether mamma will be pleased or horrified when she finds out," she said. Her voice was weak, but she made a valiant attempt to sound wry. "To know that Master Clare and I are in the same house for the indeterminate future, or that I am here without the proper wardrobe?"

I laughed and kissed her cheek. "She simply won't know what to do with herself. Now, I'll send up a servant with something to eat." Anjey grimaced at the prospect, which worried me further. "Nothing at all?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Something to drink, then?"

Anjey licked her cracked lips. "Aye, please."

I headed for the door. "The maid will be right up."

"Don't be long, Aliza," she called. It sounded more like a plea than a command, and felt my gut twist with guilt.

"I'll be back soon," I lied.

Brysney was awake, dressed, and waiting anxiously in the main parlor when I went downstairs. Silverwing lay sprawled before the fire, which Henshaw had already built up to a cheery blaze. It was a comfort against the chill of the rain, which had settled to a faint but steady drizzle as the sun rose. Brysney started forward as soon as he saw me.

"Madam Aliza, how is she?"

"Not good, Master Brysney. The wounds are already infected. I treated her as best I could with what I had, but she'll need stronger medicine as soon as possible."

"Tell me what she needs," he said, and there was such resolve in his voice that I knew he would have willingly walked to the highest peak of Dragonsmoor if I told him there was an herb growing there that would save my sister.

"The only thing I can think of is ashwine root."

He frowned. "I've never heard of that before."

"It's a local plant. Not very common, I fear, but if we can find some I'm sure it will help my sister."

Brysney reddened, and there was a pause as he clasped and unclasped his hands, searching for words. "Begging you pardon, but do you mind asking how you know this? I was not aware you were a herbmaster." I must have looked affronted, for an apology immediately followed. "Forgive me, Madam Aliza. I just want to be sure. For…for your sister's sake."

I forgave him at once. After all, it was only fair that he question my expertise; with my sister's life in the balance, I would have done the same. "My uncle is one of the caretakers at the Royal Gardens in Edonarle. He's very familiar with medicinal herbs. He taught me and my sisters how to use them when we were younger."

He bowed, satisfied. "Then you are certainly more knowledgeable than I. Now, where do we find this ashwine root?"

That was the question I had been dreading. "The only place I know it grows is the Witherwood. Before the horde descended, we could always find some there."

Master Brysney held his calm quite well in the face of such bad news. The only sign of agitation be betrayed was a slight flaring of his nostrils, and it was soon effaced by a smile. "Well then, what curious fortune. I suppose it is convenient in a way. After all, we did come to exterminate the gryphons, didn't we? I suppose it's no matter if we kill them a day or two early."

As if in response, one of the chairs in front of the fire was shoved violently backwards, and a glowering Daired rose to face us. Both Brysney and I started; besides Silverwing, we had not realized anyone else was in the room. My astonishment at his presence dissolved first to annoyance, then to puzzlement; something about him was different. It took me a moment to pick it out. Then—_ah. _He had not yet tied his hair back. Its unbraided ends hung loose and shaggy over his collar, and a single strand fell forlornly across his forehead, looking lonely against his dark and scar-checked skin.

For some reason, the sight struck me with the most peculiar feeling of indecency, almost as he had entered without a shirt rather than without his customary Rider's plait. A trifling thing, perhaps, but it was the first time I had seen him not look, if not perfectly put-together, at least fully in command of his appearance. The incongruity was astonishing. I supposed it was possible he had fallen asleep in front of the fire last night, leaving him no time to groom himself before Brysney and I woke him.

The alternative, which I thought quite impossible, was that he had purposefully woken early to listen to our exchange.

My curiosity was soon swallowed in irritation as Daired inserted himself into our conversation without invitation. "It may matter to our host very much, Brysney, particularly when he finds that his clerk's eldest daughter nearly died of a premature attack," Daired warned. He turned to me. "By the by, are you planning on informing your family that you and your sister are _alive_ before setting out to this Witherwood, Madam Aliza? Surely they must be worried."

Brysney, who seemed immune to Daired's bad manners, only rolled his eyes. I, on the other hand, was not so tolerant. "Thank you for your concern, Master Daired, but I would rather delay such a message if delaying it meant that my sister _would_ still be alive when it reached my parents."

Daired crossed the room in three long strides so as to resume glaring from a much more convenient distance. "Is your sister truly in danger, then?"

I felt my cheeks burn with indignation. Did he really think I would propose a journey into the heart of a gryphon's nesting ground on a whim? Would I risk so much for anything less than my sister's life? I wondered if it was my judgment or my expertise he doubted. Either way, his arrogance offended me. "I may not have had your experience with battlefield wounds, sir, but I know the signs of an infection when I see it. Blood is blood, no matter how poor and backwards the corner of the country in which it is shed." His look of surprise at my passionate defense made me bolder, and I matched his gaze steely glint for steely glint. "Anjey's wounds need an ashwine poultice, or—"

The truth of my own words hit me just then, and boldness notwithstanding, I had to stop. _My sister's life is in real danger. Anjey…my dearest Anjey…might not live through the night._

Whether it was my argument or something else, Daired appeared convinced. At once he turned to his friend, his tone now commanding rather than confrontational. "Brysney, is Lena awake yet?"

"Lena? I don't know. Why?"

"The rain's died down enough to fly. She could take Bluescale and return to the Manor with news of what's happened here while we go to the Witherwood."

Brysney looked relieved. "Then you're coming?"

Daired grunted. "Naturally. I would not let you two wander into the heart of a gryphon horde with only one sword and one wyvern between you…"

"_Two_?" Brysney started and turned to me. "Madam Aliza, I hope you did not expect to accompany me."

For an instant I felt betrayed. His gallantry did him credit, but in the moment it was maddening. An abundance of time to argue over the finer points of chivalry was not something we had at our disposal. I did not want to leave Anjey in the grip of the infection a second longer than was necessary. "Ashwine root is hard to find, Master Brysney. If you want to gather enough and be out of there before dark, you'll need me with you."

"Describe it to us, then."

The frustration I felt began to seep into my tone as I thought of Anjey lying upstairs, waiting for my return. She would be waiting a long time if the Riders denied my request; I would not be returning without something to help her. If need be, I would go to the Witherwood on foot. Neither Brysney nor Daired would be able to find enough ashwine root on their own in time, no matter how well I described it. The plant looked like at least three other creeping greens, two of which were poisonous. The truest test was a test of smell, and the scent of ashwine was too subtle to describe with any precision.

"I can't. I mean, I can, but not well enough to stake my sister's life on it." I met Brysney's eye and felt tears forming in my own. "Please understand, Master Brysney. I must come with you."

Perhaps I had underestimated his gallantry, or perhaps the sight of my tears was more moving than I thought, for Brysney yielded before I had a chance to beg a second time. "Very well, but then you'd best get yourself ready, Madam Aliza. We had better be off soon. Now, if you'll pardon me…" he excused himself to the other end of the room to inform his wyvern of our imminent journey.

"Well, well," Daired said under his breath, following his friend with his eyes for a moment before turning back to me. "Congratulations, Madam Bentaine. You are most persuasive." I did not feel complimented. In fact, I felt rather accused. By his tone I gathered that the art of persuasion was not one he much admired, nor did he esteem those who easily gave in to it. After all I had seen of his bull-headed disposition, I doubted he ever allowed himself to be persuaded. "As Brysney said, you may come with us to the Witherwood. But before we leave you must promise something."

I_ must promise_ him_ something?_ Again his arrogance irked me, but for Anjey's sake I would have submitted to worse. "And what is that, Master Daired?"

He reached up and tied his hair into its customary plait with lightning dexterity, a Rider again through and through. Though no longer exactly threatening, the look in his dark eyes was as intense as ever, and beyond his disdain for my company there was when he spoke an added note of urgency in his voice. "Be careful, Madam Aliza. For all our sakes, please don't die today."


	16. Chapter 16

|**Chapter 16**|

* * *

Bristling a little, I accepted the sentiment in the spirit with which it was given—that is to say, knowing that his concern for me was only a thinly disguised sense of self-preservation. Daired was well aware on whose head it would fall if both Anjey and I lost our lives in a gryphon attack while under his protection. For a Rider to fail so spectacularly in their duty to the bearers of their bond-price meant eternal shame, and in Daired's case, likely banishment from the House Pendragan. It was rumored that the Daired matriarch did not stand for any such violation of their sacred family honor.

Even more terrifying, if her daughters died Daired would have to face my mother's wrath, which was bound to be indescribable. After all, how could Anjey marry Brysney if she was dead?

"Thank you, Master Daired. I will conscientiously try _not_ to do so," I said, hurrying past him to join Brysney. His sisters had just arrived in the drawing room, and I did not want him to have to explain the situation alone. To my relief, they both took the news rather well. Lady Lena agreed to return to the Manor with her husband and inform my family what had happened. On hearing of the battle that was likely to follow our incursion into the Witherwood, Lady Charis offered to join her brother and Daired as my protector. Brysney accepted her company at once, but Daired, whom I thought would leap at the opportunity to put one more Rider between me and my impending demise, was a little more hesitant. When Lady Charis mentioned stiffly that it was her duty as a Rider to accompany us, he relented. Roles thus decided, the Riders removed to the courtyard to ready their mounts. I took the opportunity afforded by their absence to send a maidservant up to Anjey's room with a tray of tea, a pitcher of water and a hastily penned note of apology. When the maid left I joined the others in the yard outside.

It had stopped raining. Mist stood above the North Fields, thick and ghostly. More mist hung about Akarra, whose entire body was steaming in the damp air. She stood with her head bent next to Daired's. When I emerged from the lodge she straightened.

"I understand we are going to a place called the Witherwood, Madam Aliza," she said. "How far is it?"

I calculated. "A few hours' walk, if one was sure-footed. The wood is rocky and the climb is steep."

"Alastair tells me that your sister has taken ill from the wound she received."

"She has," I said, my throat tightening. "Quite ill. A bad infections has set in."

"So soon?"

"Yes. The medicine I had couldn't prevent it."

"Ah. Well then." Without ceremony she settled on the ground and beckoned me forward with an outstretched wing. "We must all ride."

My mouth fell open. Brysney, who was already mounted on Silverwing next to the gate, gave a short laugh of surprise. Lady Ruthven and her husband looked up sharply at Akarra's offered wing, then urged their mounts away from the lodge, as if eager to distance themselves from the undignified scene. But our reactions were nothing to Daired's. He blanched with what I could only assume was an even mixture of anger and utter shock. Once, twice, he gaped, speechless—but when he found his voice, he put it to good use.

"_Akarra_!" Daired cried, then proceeded to protest strenuously in Eth before his dragon cut him off with a hiss.

"Alastair, we will only waste time if you make Madam Aliza walk. Charis will do no better on that horse of hers. Now," Akarra said, gesturing both to Lady Charis and me. Daired stepped forward as if to prevent us, then fell back at a thunderous glare from his dragon. At the sight, I knew from whom he had learned his penchant for dark looks. Compared to Akarra's, however, his seemed positively mild. With an inward smile I reminded myself never to be intimated by it again. "Alastair, fretting will not win you this battle. If you feel so very strongly about it, you are free to stay here. I will take Madam Aliza myself. Come, children."

If it were not for the need that drove us into the Witherwood in the first place, I would have declined. Non-Riders are rarely suffered to touch dragons, wyverns or beorworms, let alone ride them. Besides being horribly dangerous, it goes against all laws of inter-species etiquette. But the thought of Anjey's suffering made me brave. I went forward, willing my knees not to shake.

A hand on my arm brought me to a momentary halt. His lips pressed together in a tight line, Daired guided me to the crook of Akarra's foreleg, just in front of her wing. Feeling more self-conscious than I ever had before, I clambered gracelessly atop her back, wedging myself between the short spikes that ran along her well-muscled back. Her skin was quite hot and uncomfortable to the touch. I saw at once why Riders wore the clothes they did. Dragons, wyverns, and beorworms did not suffer to be saddled like common beasts of burden, which meant that thick leather breeches and iron-shod boots were all that stood between a Rider's legs and the skin-shredding scales of their mount.

Nevertheless, I was intensely conscious of the honor Akarra was doing me, and despite my insecurity I tried to savor the realization that I was, in fact, sitting astride a dragon. Wrapped up for a moment in the feeling, it took me a bit longer than it should have to notice that Daired had climbed up behind me, and Lady Charis behind him. Not until a most unexpected arm circled around my waist did I think to pay attention to the details of dragon riding, rather than just the thrill of it. My mood soured.

"Lean forward. It will be easier to hold on when we're in the air." Daired's voice was gruff and much closer to my ear than I felt was necessary. I stiffened at his touch, but he did not let go. If anything, he tightened his grip. "I beg your pardon, Madam Bentaine. It's for your safety."

I glanced behind me with what I hoped was a withering look. Daired stared straight ahead and avoided my gaze. Lady Charis sat with folded arms and a smirk on her face. _She_ did not need anyone to hold on to her.

"Is everyone settled?" Akarra asked, and Daired replied testily in Eth. She paid his tone no heed. "Madam Aliza, if you would be so kind to relate the directions?" she called over her shoulder. I did as best as I was able, hoping the mist would not make the place difficult to find. Akarra assured me that it wouldn't. "If a horde has nested there, you can be sure I will smell it long before we see it. And now I would recommend you brace yourself, child," Akarra said. I obeyed, clutching at the spikes in front of me as I felt her muscles coil beneath us.

A moment later she sprang into the air.

For one brief, horrible instant, I was truly grateful for Daired's arm around my waist. Nothing less than our violent departure from the earth could have made me appreciate that man's touch so much. My stomach made a nearly successful bid for freedom from the rest of me as Akarra banked to the west, toward the place I had indicated as the Witherwood. I was glad I had not eaten breakfast.

The sensation steadied but did not subside as Akarra's powerful wings carried us across the North Fields and surrounding forest. Daired did not let go and did not speak to me, save to ask once, brusquely, if I was all right. Not trusting my voice, I only nodded. Lady Charis, on the other hand, gloried in the ride. She spent the entire journey with arms out-flung, displaying both her impeccable balance and her confidence on the back of a winged creature. If her antics intended to make me envious, however, she failed; as the minutes passed and the novelty faded, I came to realize that my place was on the ground. Daired and Lady Charis could have the sky if they wanted it. _Give me earth and growing things,_ I thought as I closed my eyes and pressed myself closer to Akarra's neck. _They can keep the wind._

To my relief, the journey did not last long. It was indeed the smell of rotting flesh that first signaled we were getting close. Akarra slowed as the forest sloped steeply up in front of her and the trees grew sparse.

"The Witherwood is beyond the ridge," I cried above the beating of her wings. She nodded once and began to descend into the nearest clearing, landing in such a way that I was glad again, if only for a moment, that Daired still held on to me. Without him I would have certainly tumbled off. That impropriety did not last much longer, thank the gods. As soon as Akarra had sunk all four claws into the earth, Daired released me.

Brysney and Silverwing landed beside us. "This is the place?" he said, keeping his voice down lest the horde was nearby.

I nodded, butchering my attempt to follow the Riders' lead and dismount the dragon in one smooth motion. Seeing my trouble, Daired gave me his hand, which I took with the same reluctance he offered it. Once on the ground he dropped my hand as if it stung.

"If we are to find this ashwine plant quickly, we had best divide our party," Brysney suggested. "Madam Aliza, if you could describe it to us, we will call for you if we think we've found it."

"Of course. You're looking for a woody vine with long, narrow leaves and clusters of small purple flowers. It grows in heavy shade and on rock faces, so examine the boulders first."

Lady Charis frowned at our surroundings, the straggling trees made even more sinister by the shape of the crags in the mist. She drew her sword. "This is bad terrain for a fight. If at all possible, Madam Aliza, might I suggest confining our search to this side of the ridge?"

An image of the gryphon that had wounded Anjey flashed through my mind, all beak and bloody talons and wild, hopeless eyes. It was a sight I never wanted to see again. "Aye, do let's."


	17. Chapter 17

|**Chapter 17**|

* * *

Fortune did not smile on us that morning, save in one respect, and that only for a time. We did not find any ashwine root, but neither were we attacked by the gryphon horde.

At least not at first.

I spent a good hour at the side of each of the Riders, inspecting, re-inspecting and then discarding a number of vines that looked like ashwine but were either common throttleberry, flowering blue murmurry or the vine we at the Manor call hush. Silverwing searched with us, but Akarra stayed crouched in the place she landed, fearful of alerting the horde to our presence if she moved about too much.

For a few minutes before we began our search, Brysney and Lady Charis had debated whether or not it would be better to flush the gryphons out all at once and be done with it. Lady Charis was for the idea, saying it would be easier to chose our own battleground if we made the first move, but Brysney overruled his sister, claiming that it would delay their errand and risk needless injury to everyone involved.

He said everyone, but he meant me. I silently thanked him.

The sun was high behind the clouds and we were all feeling hot, sweaty and rather discouraged when Brysney at last let out a triumphant but quickly stifled cheer. Lady Charis and I abandoned our search around the trunk of a fallen pine and joined him in a little copse farther down the hill. Lichen-covered boulders stood like sentinels around three sides of the grove, and up the tallest climbed a slender brace of ashwine creepers.

"Is this it?" Brysney asked in a whisper, as if to compensate up for his earlier outburst.

I knelt beside the vine and broke off a leaf. The subtle, heady smell of wood smoke and sour earth filled my nose as relief filled my heart. "Yes, this is it. May I borrow your knife, Master Brysney?" I asked, tugging on the base of one of the plants. The ground was soft from the rain, but the vine was deeply rooted and would have to be dug out.

Brysney unsheathed his dagger and handed it to me. Lady Charis peered over my shoulder. "Will that be enough for your sister?" she asked, sounding doubtful.

"I believe so," I said, scoring the earth in a circle around the bottom of the vine with the dagger and working the plant this way and that until it came free with a soggy _squelch_. "But I'll take a few more just to be—"

A muffled shriek sounded from just beyond the copse. It was followed by the sickening crunch of bone and the sound of steel meeting feathered flesh. I leapt to my feet, the single ashwine vine clutched in one hand, the dagger in the other. Brysney and Lady Charis drew their swords and started towards the sound, only to be driven back as Daired came hurtling down the slope, his sword bloody and his face grim. Silverwing followed, half flying, half running, his jaws red with the same blood.

To their credit, neither Brysney nor his sister wasted any time with exclamations of fear, though I could have supplied plenty in their stead if it came to that. "How many?" was all Lady Charis asked, drawing her sword.

Daired stopped, panting, between the other Riders. "I don't know. This one dropped on me from above," he said, grimacing at his dripping blade. "But I could hear others stirring beyond the ridge."

"Akarra…?"

Brysney never finished his question. Her name had not passed his lips before the dragon's bone-shaking roar filled the Witherwood, drowning out for a moment the cacophony of a newly wakened horde. My heart began to hammer and a cold sweat broke out across my forehead, but Daired did not wait for me to begin properly panicking before he reacted. As Brysney and Lady Charis headed for the wooded side of the copse, Daired grabbed my arm and pushed me into the cleft between two boulders.

"Madam Bentaine, remember your promise," he said through clenched teeth, and without another word he hurried away to join his fellow Riders. If my life had not been in imminent danger, I would have been stunned by his rudeness, but as it was I was thoroughly occupied with doing just what he had ordered. Namely, _not_ dying.

The task proved more difficult than I hoped. The clashes and cries of battle had been going on for no more than ten minutes before a shadow swooped across my hiding place, followed by another, then two more. I dared a peek at the sky. Black silhouettes against the misty, green-tinged sunlight, a number of gryphons were retreating into the forest, some flying, some leaping from tree to tree, their talons scrabbling for purchase on the sloughing bark. As I watched, one gryphon misjudged the distance from one trunk to another and fell, sending branches, feathers, and its own broken body spilling into the heart of the copse in which I was hiding.

I pressed myself against the boulder and willed the creature to die before it saw me. There was no cover I could take if it charged, and screaming for help would not guarantee I received it before the other gryphons descended on me. Instead, I held my breath and waited. For a while it seemed my luck would hold; the fallen gryphon lay still for a full minute, its breath labored and its wings twisted in painful directions. But it was not dead, not yet. I exhaled slowly and took a second look.

Its head snapped up, wide yellow eyes fixed on me. In the space of a heartbeat it was on its feet and rushing towards me, wings dragging on the ground, its beak open, shrieking with pain and the unquenchable, inescapable desire to kill.

Then I did scream, fully and properly.

Time passed in those few moments as it does in dreams—sluggish, unreal, each fraction of a second defined in crystal clarity by both senses and emotions. Or perhaps in this case, it was more like a nightmare. In a daze I saw the beast charging, but only one thought possessed me: I could not let it harm the ashwine root. The hand that held the vine clutched it to my chest, and my other hand rose to meet the bellowing creature. _I'll not let a gryphon bring any more harm to my sister,_ I thought as I brought my fist down into that burning yellow eye.

The redoubled shriek that came from the gryphon's throat as I made contact surprised me more than the contact itself, but that was nothing compared to the horrible shock I felt as blood gushed out over my hand. Yanking my hand away from the creature, I stumbled backwards as the feathery body crumpled at my feet, a long knife buried in its eye socket.

Blinded by the pure, thoughtless instinct to defend myself, I had forgotten that I still held Brysney's dagger.

"Madam Aliza!"

Daired was calling me. I shook my head. A faint ringing was building in my ears, dulling the sounds of Akarra and Silverwing and their Riders as they slaughtered the last of the remaining gryphons. My stomach twisted on itself and I retched. I opened my eyes to find myself on my knees. The gryphon's carcass lay sprawled next to me, and over it stood Daired. He did not speak or offer to help me up. He simply stared, first at me, then at the thing I had killed. I couldn't tell which one he didn't believe was real.

"Madam Aliza!" Brysney's hand on my shoulder drew my attention away from the strange—and strangely satisfying—look of wonder on Daired's face. "Are you all right?"

He helped me up and I took stock of myself. No wounds, no bones broken, and the ashwine root was still safe in my hand. As for bruising… Well, tomorrow would tell. Still, I had kept my promise; I was alive. "I think so, Master Brysney. Just shaken, I'm afraid."

"Well then," Lady Charis began, striding in from the fray to take her place next to Daired. She ran a cloth over her blood-smeared sword and propped the flat against her shoulder, smirking at Daired's stunned expression. "Has our little herbmaster found…?" Her eyes fell on the dead gryphon. "Oh."

Her brother's face broke into a grin. "Indeed, sister. Bless the gods, I do believe Madam Aliza has earned her first blade!"

"What?" The announcement brought me fully to my senses better than a bucket of cold water. "What do you mean, Master Brysney?"

Ever a gentleman, Brysney took my arm and led me around the corpse to join the others. "It is the first test we Riders face in training, Madam Aliza—the taking of a life. Our first kill earns us our first blade." Without thinking twice he turned and plucked the dagger from the dead creature's eye socket, cleaned it assiduously on a patch of damp moss and presented it to me with a bow. "Though you may not be a Rider, madam, you have certainly killed your beast. This isn't a sword, but you should have something to commemorate the occasion."

I was dumbstruck. That dagger was the last thing I wanted. My natural reaction was to back away, putting as much distance as possible between me and that instrument of death. My response, however, was to curtsy and accept the gift with a polite though hollow expression of thanks. But I could not maintain the appearance of gratitude for long. My face clouded as I studied the steel blade in my hand. I did not understand how Brysney could be so at ease just minutes after a battle, and certainly not after that, as it seemed to me, gruesome and unnecessary gesture. I was a mess. My heart was still thundering in my chest and I was beginning to tremble. The hand that held the dagger could still feel the gryphon's blood pouring over it, hot and sticky and bearing its life out of its body. Better than my blood, of course, but even so…

My fingers closed around the hilt; it was all I could do not to throw it away. When I raised my head, Daired's eyes were the first I met. He had stopped looking at the gryphon altogether.

"Congratulations, Madam Bentaine," Lady Charis said as she sheathed her sword. "I'm sure your family will be thrilled when they learn that they are living under the same roof as a gryphon slayer." She said the final word with a scornful smile. Part of me began to hate her a little then, for I had no doubt she knew what I was feeling. "You will be the pride of Merybourne Manor, I am quite sure of it. Don't you think, Master Daired?"

"Assuredly," he said, dropping his gaze at last. "Perhaps—"

"Might we return to the lodge?" I interrupted. "I appreciate the honor of this," I said, holding up the knife, "but I need to get back to my sister." I was sick of the presence of death.

Of course, at Anjey's name Brysney took up my side at once. "Yes, by all means! Daired, where is Akarra?" he asked, offering me his arm again. I took it without hesitation.

"Settling the last of the beasts beyond the ridge. She'll have finished by now."

"Excellent. Shall we bring her the good news?"

Assisted by Silverwing, Akarra had indeed finished off the few remaining gryphons at the crest of the Witherwood, though many had still managed to escape into the lower forest. I was glad both she and Silverwing had the wit to understand the source of the blood in which I was covered and the courtesy not to ask about it.

With help from Brysney I climbed atop Akarra's back once again, though this time my trembling limbs made me even clumsier than before. Lady Charis took note, I was sure, but neither she nor Daired mentioned it. In fact, Daired said nothing at all as we flew over the North Fields.

I did notice, however, that he held onto my waist just a little bit tighter than he had before.


	18. Chapter 18

|**Chapter 1****8**|

* * *

Never before had I seen such a perfect combination of anger and relief as I did in the expression on Anjey's face when I returned. Despite the fever, she well enough in her wits to be upset with me for leaving on such a dangerous journey with nothing but a note for explanation. I did not grudge her her ire, only begged her forgiveness.

"Anjey, I am sorry—truly, I am. You know I wouldn't have gone if it was not necessary."

"Was it? Really? Aliza, you almost _died,_" she reminded me, having received a brief summary of my encounter with the gryphon as explanation for the blood that covered my clothes. On returning to the lodge I had washed my hands and face, but having no spares, decided to wear the bloodstained tunic and trousers until I could send for more. "I appreciate your concern for me, dearest, but that was reckless."

My sole defense was to unwrap the bandage on her arm. Anjey winced, but I did not stop until the festering wounds were exposed. The redness had spread, and the edges were tight, shiny, and had begun oozing pus in some places. My stomach turned at the sight, but not more than Anjey's. Her face lost what little color it had and she looked away.

"See? It might have been reckless, but it was necessary," I said.

"And…you found enough ashwine to treat it?" she asked faintly, conceding, it seemed, the truth of what I had told her. "You think it'll help?"

I pursed my lips and did not answer as I washed her arm with warm water, then packed the wounds with a paste I had made of salt, vinegar and ground ashwine root. She bit her lip hard to keep from crying out during the process, but once it was finished and her freshly bandaged arm rested once again on the pillow, she allowed herself a sigh of relief.

"Better?" I asked.

"I think so. Thank you, Aliza. For everything."

"You know you don't need to thank me. You'd have done the same if I were in your place, and more. Now, drink this," I said, handing her a cup of mint-and-passiflora tea. "Let the poultice do the work; _you_ need to rest."

She drank it obediently. Her body already weary, it did not take long to take effect. After a minute or two she closed her eyes and her breathing steadied. I pulled the coverlet up, adjusted her pillows, and kissed her forehead. But before I could slip out of the room, she mumbled my name.

"Aliza?"

"Yes?"

"Tell Clare…tell him thank you," she said thickly.

"Of course." My answer and the smile that went with it went unnoticed. She was fast asleep.

A maid met me in the hall outside Anjey's room, her arms full of what I saw on closer inspection were, to my surprise, some of my own gowns. "Begging your pardon, miss, but the lady Rider and her husband just come from the Manor with these. They say your lady mother sent them for you and Miss Anjey."

I thanked her and was about to take the clothes when I remembered the state of my current outfit. "Better come with me, Betsy. I think I'll have a bath first."

The pleasure of soaking away all the blood, mud, sweat, and grime from the past two days was almost equaled by the annoyance I felt at the realization that, now that my mother had made certain I was presentable, good manners dictated that I spend at least a few hours in the company of my hosts. Extraordinary circumstances notwithstanding, Anjey and I were still the guests of Master Brysney and his sisters. We stayed in the lodge at their leisure, and it would be the height of ill manners for me to spend the whole time cloistered in my room, no matter how much I wished I could.

I sighed as Betsy helped me into one of the dresses. At least I had a ready escape; the need to check in on my sister would limit my appearance among the Riders to half an hour at most. With that in mind I worked up my courage and descended into the parlor. It was empty, but Henshaw, who was stoking the fire, told me that Master Brysney and the rest had retired to the garden in back of the lodge. I followed his directions and found them all there, Lady Lena and Master Ruthven included.

"Madam Aliza!" Brysney cried upon seeing me. He hurried up to the lodge door and bowed. "How is your sister?"

"As well as can be expected; thank you for asking. She's sleeping."

"You've treated her wounds with the ashwine poultice?" he asked, and I nodded. "When do you think…how long do you expect her recovery to be?"

I hid a grin. His eagerness to know how long he would get to play the attentive host to my sister was quite endearing. "It's hard to say, but I'm hopeful she will mend soon. Several days of complete rest would not be remiss, however. I'm afraid we will have to trespass on your hospitality a little longer."

The smile of relief that broke over his anxious features was beautiful to behold. "Oh, no trespass at all! I would not want Anjey recovering anywhere else in Arle," Brysney assured me, then flushed a little as he realized what he had said. As if to amend for his familiarity, he took my arm and led me over to the others, who were lounging next to their mounts on the grassy lawn behind the garden. "If you don't mind sitting out of doors, madam, we would be honored with your company. I'm afraid Silver and the others feel the parlor a bit, ah, confining."

"Thank you, Master Brysney," I said, settling myself on the edge of the garden wall. "I would be glad to join you, but I cannot stay long."

"Of course. I understand." A gleam entered his eye as he straightened. "In the meantime, we will have to make it worth your while."

"Oh?"

"Madam Aliza, have you ever seen a Sparring?"

I told him I had never heard of such a thing.

"Well then, we shall be pleased to introduce you."

Before I could tell him that I neither needed nor wanted such an introduction, he was off across the lawn to inform the other Riders. Daired looked at me while his friend spoke, which made me wonder if I was glad or upset that I couldn't quite hear what Brysney was saying. In the end, however, it seemed that the suggestion of a Sparring was taken well by the Riders and by Lady Lena's wyvern Bluescale. Neither Akarra, Silverwing nor Burrumburrem appeared to have any interest in joining. Instead they arranged themselves around the perimeter of the lawn, one at each corner, with Akarra taking up an entire side.

I had scarcely enough time to determine the nature of a Sparring for myself before the Riders and the wyvern took their positions in a circle between their creature marshals, each ten paces away from the others. Despite my aversion to bloodshed, I found that the idea of watching these five warriors engage in a sham fight did have a certain sort of vicious charm to it. Plus, it was not as if there was any real danger. These Riders were too good for that. I plucked a few stray violets growing from a nearby crevice in the stone and began idly twisting them together as Silverwing trumpeted the commencement of the Sparring.

Perhaps it was well I had seen the Riders in action before that moment, for if I had not I might have begun to seriously doubt their capacity for organized maneuvers. At Silverwing's signal each Rider rushed into the center of the ring, meeting in a melee of flashing swords, flapping wings, hoarse battle cries and what seemed zero coordination. Lady Charis engaged Daired at once, then turned from him to face her brother-in-law's attack before she had gotten her first real feint in, only to have Master Ruthven duck under her sword to swing at Brysney's unprotected back. Brysney sensed the blade just in time and spun away, leaving Master Ruthven to battle his wife as Bluescale swooped on Brysney from above. The Rider leapt over the wyvern's scything tail to cross swords with Daired, whom Lady Charis was chasing once more.

It was positively dizzying. Yet as I watched I began to pick out a sort of rhythm. The chain of violets I was twisting together fell forgotten into my lap as the pattern of the Sparring became clearer. Each Rider had to engage the other five equally, even if the exchange lasted no more than a second. If there were subtler rules that governed the duel they remained mysterious, but at the very least it was clear that none of the participants were allowed to stand still. They whirled and flew around each other, finding and changing partners faster than a spirited country jig. Then Silverwing uttered a high note and the game changed.

Master Ruthven turned his blade wholly upon his wife who, though easily half his size, matched him blow for blow with a strength and ferocity belied by her petite stature. I wondered as I watched if this was the approved means by which marital disputes were settled among Riders. So lopsided were the odds in their battle, in fact, that I might have been tempted to continue watching them for the sheer incongruity of the thing, if it weren't for the far more interesting fight that was unfolding beside them.

Daired was battling Bluescale with his back nearly to Brysney, who had engaged Lady Charis. Grudging though my approbation might have been, I could not help but admire the scene. Whatever other faults he might possess, Alastair Daired was eminently worthy of the name Daired. Challenging a wyvern in flight could not have been an easy feat, but he was as light as a dancer on his feet, shifting his weight at a tilt of Bluescale's wings to meet the forthcoming attack head on. The red stone embedded in the pommel of his sword shone like a drop of living dragonfire at each thrust and parry, bringing a spark of color to what was otherwise a bloodless battle. It was mesmerizing.

Silverwing trumpeted again, and without missing a beat the combatants turned from their first partners to face another. Lady Lena whirled to meet her brother's blade as Master Ruthven swung his greatsword over her head to counter his wife's wyvern' attack. But again it was Daired who claimed my attention, for it was now Lady Charis who challenged him—and I soon saw there was a reason she had cut down the lesser lindworm of Harborough Hatch. In a tight circle they spun around each other, swords flashing, their Rider's plaits whipping back and forth with the speed of attack and counterattack. Then…

A growl from Burrumburrem and a hoot from Silverwing announced the end of one duel; as my eyes were occupied elsewhere I missed how it was done, but I turned just in time to see Ruthven throw down his greatsword in surrender, the tip of Bluescale's barbed tail pressed under his ear. Grinding his teeth, the defeated Rider stalked off the lawn to stand beside his beorworm and watch the rest of the Sparring from the sidelines.

Unfortunately for his wife, his defeat provided just enough distraction for Brysney to seize the advantage. With a feint and a sharp pivot to the left, Brysney threw his sister off balance. As she stumbled, he knocked her sword from her hand and placed the tip of his blade against her throat. Lady Lena frowned but raised her hands as she stood, leaving her sword on the grass where it had fallen. "Yield?" he said, and she nodded curtly. Brysney smiled and lowered his weapon as his sister hurried over to join her husband. Ruthven whispered something in her ear as she took her place next to him, and her frown deepened. I assumed whatever he said somehow involved a plan to nurse their wounded pride together in brooding silence.

Sheathing his sword, Brysney skirted Daired and Lady Charis to join me on the garden wall. His smile widened as he noted my look of wonderment. If anything, in the absence of other combatants, the battle between the two had intensified.

"So, Madam Aliza, what do you say to our little game?" he asked as he sat, panting slightly.

I winced as Lady Charis delivered what sounded to be a painful blow to Daired's shoulder. "Honestly, Master Brysney, I don't quite know what to say. You are all so very…accomplished."

He laughed. "What a kind way to put it!"

"Kind?"

"Most people think it's brutal."

His timing was most appropriate, for just at that moment Daired struck Lady Charis in the stomach with the flat of his blade—hard. She gave a faint _oof_ and doubled over.

"It is, ah, safe?" I asked, unable to take my eyes from the pair. Lady Charis struggled to straighten while fending off the second wave of Daired's attack, managing to hold her own despite what I could only imagine was the growing knot of pain in her gut. _Or wise?_ I wanted to add.

"Perfectly so, I assure you. No blood may be spilled during a Sparring—unless, of course, the loser refuses to yield."

"Does that often…?"

Before I could finish, the battle was over. Ducking under Lady Charis' last blow, Daired knocked her arm away and swung his sword in a tight arc, stopping just as the cold steel blade brushed the place on her throat where her pulse pounded. She froze only a handbreadth away from him, eyes wide with surprise.

"Yield?" Daired asked.

Her reaction, which I thought would be disappointment at the very least, was not what I expected. Lady Charis arched an eyebrow as she glanced down. "You tell me, Master Daired."

Daired followed her gaze, as did I. And promptly reddened, as did I. For in the last moments of their battle Lady Charis had somehow managed to draw her dagger and now had it pressed against a certain part of Master Daired that was literally, figuratively and in every other sense of the term, below the belt.


	19. Chapter 19

|**Chapter 19**|

* * *

Daired pulled away with a look of either anger or embarrassment—I couldn't tell which, for as soon as I realized what she had done my gaze dropped of its own accord. The twisted and mangled violets in my lap were suddenly the most fascinating things in the world.

Brysney stood to join his friend, shaking his head at his sister. "Charis! Bad form; bad form indeed."

Lady Charis shrugged and sheathed her dagger. "Perhaps, but I doubt I'd find anyone of you complaining if I pulled that on the battlefield."

"It's the principle of the thing, sister."

"Blast the principle; I would have won."

Brysney rolled his eyes but abandoned his attempt to persuade his sister to display any of the nobler sentiments. I did not blame him; once her mind was set, Lady Charis seemed the sort of person who would not yield easily to any outside influence. Brysney turned to me with an apologetic smile. "Excusing all _variable_ personalities involved, our Sparrings really are honorable affairs. You must pardon my sister."

I stood and dropped into a half-curtsy, more for Brysney's benefit than for Lady Charis. "Of course, Master Brysney. It was a masterful fight."

He called to Daired, who was tending to his sword a little ways beyond us. "Did you hear that, Daired? We have succeeded in our object; Madam Aliza is impressed."

Daired looked up. "I am glad to hear it," he said with cold civility.

Eager, it seemed, to change the subject, Lady Charis suggested that we join Lady Lena and her husband on the other side of the Sparring lawn. As the Ruthvens did not look particularly interested in company at the moment, I prepared to excuse myself. Lady Charis, however, would have none of that. Before I could apologize and slip away, she seized my arm. "Do join us, Madam Aliza," she whispered in my ear. I had no choice but to oblige, following her lead to the far end of the garden. Brysney accompanied us, as did Daired. I was grateful for the former; not so much the latter.

"Lena dear, Madam Aliza was quite impressed by our display just now," her sister informed her as we approached.

"I'm glad our exercise proved entertaining for her, Charis," Lena said. Her husband only grunted.

Lady Charis, however, was not deterred. She turned on Daired. "Speaking of impressive, how does little Anjina get on these days? It's been so long since we've had the pleasure of Sparring."

Daired sheathed his sword. "She does very well."

"Has she killed yet?"

"Indeed she has; her first last summer."

"Excellent! Was it anything like my first? Twin trolls in the morning and a mad centaur colt in the afternoon?" she said with a sly grin.

"Hardly. She slew a gryphon, just as Madam Aliza did."

Whether she was vexed at the mention of my success that morning or disappointed in this Anjina's death-record I could not tell, but whatever the reason it seemed to silence her for the moment. Her brother took up the reins of conversation. "And she will do Lady Chara and House Pendragan proud, I am quite sure," he said, slapping Daired's shoulder amicably. "It has always amazed me how young ladies find the time to master not only the fighting arts but the finer ones as well. I remember learning swordplay at Anjina's age; for years there was nothing else in my head. But she has managed a great deal more, has she not? I understand she is quite the master musician."

"Jina is thoroughly accomplished," Daired conceded. I guessed that Anjina was Daired's younger sister. The thought of having him for a brother made me instantly sympathize with this unknown girl. Growing up in the shadow of the pompous Alastair Daired? What a nightmare.

At the mention of accomplishments, Lady Charis found her voice again. "Dear brother, you don't do her justice. Indeed, you bandy that word 'accomplishment' around as if it were any young lady's for the taking. You mustn't be so naïve."

"Naïve? How so?"

"I hardly know a dozen young women who begin to merit the term."

Affronted by both her manner and her arrogance, I was nevertheless curious enough to venture into the conversation myself. "Lady Brysney, forgive me for saying it, but you must set a great store by that word if you only know twelve women who deserve it."

"Less than twelve, I assure you. And yes, I do set a great store by that word."

Unaffected by her contemptuous tone, Brysney urged her to continue. "Pray tell us, Charis. What in your eyes is true accomplishment?"

Lady Charis snuck a peek at Daired before she answered. I followed her gaze, only to find the man in question watching me—no doubt expecting to savor my forthcoming look of embarrassment. I found the courage to meet his eye with a smile. Lady Charis' description would surely highlight every way in which I lacked a Rider's 'accomplishments,' but I wanted to make it clear that I didn't care one whit.

"Certainly, a truly accomplished young lady must be proficient in all forms of combat, with a mastery of every major weapon—longbow, crossbow, broadsword, short sword, dagger, spear and mace. Fluency in all the creature-tongues is preferable, of course, but Vernish, Beorspeak and Eth are required. And beyond that, she must have something in her air and manner of riding, capable of uniting the grace of a dancer with the balance of an acrobat and able to maintain a firm seat on any mount, be it horse, wyvern, beorworm or dragon."

"Great gods above," Brysney said with a laugh. "What a fearsome creature you have described!"

"No more than any Rider, brother."

"Charis is right, Clare," Daired added. "Lacking these traits the word is but half-deserved. However, a lady must add something more substantial to her prowess in battle to be truly accomplished."

"Such as?" Lady Charis asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Practical, everyday skills. Herblore, for instance."

I dropped the last of the violets I was holding. "Your twelve accomplished ladies must be the crowning jewels of Edonarle society. I agree with Master Brysney; they would indeed be fearsome things to behold."

Daired gave me a quizzical look. "You doubt such women exist?"

"How would I know, Master Daired?" I asked with a smile. "_I_ have never seen such a woman. I am, after all, only a small-minded country wench."

I'm fairly sure Brysney came to my defense then, claiming that I was no such thing. At the same time both his sisters protested in Daired's favor that there were plenty such women in the circles a Rider would travel that could meet such requirements, and it made sense that I had never met any. I heard neither of them. Daired's expression was well worth the line I had crossed to say such a thing. He looked as though I had struck him in the gut, much the same as he had struck Lady Charis earlier. I didn't mind; when the shock of knowing that I had overheard his censure had faded, he would remember how little he need heed the opinion of a clerk's daughter. In the meantime his astonishment was gratifying.

That note seemed a good one to leave on, so before Lady Charis or her brother could press me to stay outside any longer I excused myself, claiming that I needed to see to my sister. Brysney alone seemed sorry to see me go; though his sisters expressed a wish to see Anjey on the mend, I was under no illusion that they enjoyed my company and wished it prolonged. Nor, I hoped, were they under any illusion that I enjoyed theirs. Ruthven and Daired said nothing at all when we parted.

I returned to the lodge to find Anjey awake. "How are you, dearest?"

She took my hand and smiled as I sat beside her. "Better. Much better, I think."

"Do you mind if I check?" I asked, and she shook her head. Preparing myself for the worst, I pulled away the bandages, only to find the wounds looking a good deal healthier than I'd dare hoped. The redness had faded and the swelling had gone down considerably. I could see no pus around the edges. "How's the pain?"

"Manageable."

"Good. Here," I said, taking a washbasin from the nightstand and setting it on the bed between us. "Let me help." I removed the last of the old bandages as Anjey lowered her arm into the warm water. I silently blessed the maid for refilling it. Betsy had also provided a roll of clean bandages, and I reminded myself to praise her attentiveness to Hill, Lord Merybourne's head housekeeper.

Anjey grimaced as I rinsed away the old poultice. Healing though they were, the wounds were still deep. "They'll have to be sewn, won't they?" she asked in an undertone.

"Probably."

"Blast it all," she muttered. I smiled.

"Language, sister!"

"It's just…" she gave a frustrated sort of grunt. "This isn't exactly how I'd hoped to make an impression on…"

I gave her a look. "Really, Anjey, if you can't say it now then you must take me for a fool. Indeed, if mamma has had anything to do with it even the butcher in Trollhedge must know that you and Master Brysney are expected to make a happy announcement any day now."

She blushed. "Aliza!"

"What? It's the truth," I teased, applying fresh ashwine poultice to her arm and wrapping it in a clean bandage. "But popular opinion aside…dearest, if you can't see his regard for you then it's you who are being foolish."

"You think so?"

"I knowso. When I left this afternoon, the first thing he did when he saw me was to ask how you were."

"That proves he is a gracious host."

"You didn't see his expression, Anjey. Clare Brysney _cares_ about you."

She dropped her gaze, but I did not miss the little smile she tried to hide at the mention of his name. "How long are we invited to stay here again?"

I kissed her good hand and stood. "If it were up to Master Brysney, I would think the answer would be forever." I nodded to the pile of clothes that Betsy had placed atop the dresser, as they did not all fit in the narrow wardrobe. "And based on the number of outfits mamma sent I think her answer would be about the same. But in light of Brysney's other guests, I'm afraid our invitation will expire within the week."

"Weren't you with them all just now?"

"Unfortunately."

"Was it so bad as that?"

"Worse. I watched them fight."

Anjey started. "Fight? Who—?"

"No, no, not like that. It was a sham battle, a Sparring. A common exercise for bored Riders, I understand."

She leaned back against the pillows piled behind her head. "Oh? What was it like?"

I considered. "Dizzying. They're all very good."

"Who won?"

"Lady Lena's wyvern Bluescale, Daired, and your Brysney."

"He's not _my_ anything, Aliza."

I raised an eyebrow but did not correct myself. "Well, whatever else he may be, he's certainly the only civil one among them."

"Really?"

"Lady Lena and Master Ruthven are rather more the taciturn type, and Master Daired only speaks to criticize. As, of course, does Lady Charis. I think she has a particular dislike for me. Gods know why."

Anjey tucked in a fraying end of bandage and spoke thoughtfully. "I grant she's not the kindest soul in Arle, but you must remember that she has just lost her wyvern. She may simply be hiding her pain."

I grinned. "Anjey Amina Bentaine, you are too _good_. If you were capable of having a mortal enemy, I'm certain you would find a way to see the best in him. Very well, I'll not judge the Riders too harshly." I took a taper from a drawer in the nightstand and lit it in the fire. Behind the clouds the sun shone milky and weak near the tops of the surrounding hills, announcing the oncoming dark. "But though you may have the patience of a saint, I don't. I'm not about to spend the rest of the evening with them."

Anjey laughed. "You won't find me complaining of that. I'd love some company."

"Are you hungry?"

"Surprisingly, yes."

That came as a double relief; first to know that her appetite was back, and second, to have a ready excuse to spend the remainder of the evening in her room. My morning had started horribly and bottomed-out dismally by afternoon. I felt I was owed a restful night. "Excellent. I'll call for some supper."


End file.
